Fate Leads Him Who Follows It
by xx-Yaoi-love-xx
Summary: Zephyr's POV. Will contain smut in later chapters. Vashyron x Zephyr
1. Chapter 1

'_Fate leads him who follows it, and drags him who resists.' - _Plutarch

Everything started that night.

It was the night that changed my whole life, yet there are large parts of it I don't remember, things that don't fit together like they should, and things that I want to forget, but can't.

I both lost everything and gained so much in the same evening.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I know now.

Everything happens for a reason. That's what I've come to believe, and I won't ever change my mind. Even that horrific event; losing my sister, losing my mind, losing what little faith I had left in humanity was all leading me to something else.

I don't believe in God.

No.

I never will.

I believe that all of us are somehow connected, be it by family, friends, events, likes, dislikes, love or hate. We're all linked somehow by these 'connections', these invisible threads. Most of these connections we'll never know about as long as we live, but all it takes is the smallest tug on one of those threads, and it can change your whole life forever.

I don't believe in coincidence, I don't believe in luck, whether it's good or bad, and I don't believe that there's some higher power, judging us from somewhere we can't see.

There's only one thing I believe in.

I believe in fate.

Fate is the only reason I'm still alive.

I don't remember very much at all from the night it happened. Sometimes I start to remember and it all fades into a blur, like something is stopping me from seeing what I don't want to see. It's probably for the best. I can never forgive myself for what I did. The last thing I want is more reason to hate my own existence.

I remember gunfire, a lot of gunfire, I remember glass raining down on me, and it hurt, but I didn't care, and I remember being angry.

I remember being so angry that I couldn't think straight, so angry that I couldn't see what was in front of me, so angry that I couldn't control my own actions.

Sometimes I think that it wasn't even me who did it all. It must have been someone else. When I look back on it, I can't believe that it's real. I can't believe that _I _did that to those people. None of them deserved it. I didn't even know most of them.

After that, I remember seeing a man, but I don't remember what he looked like. He started attacking me, and I didn't wonder why, I just fought back. I remember feeling like that person was there to kill me, and I wanted to let them, but my body was moving on its own.

I wasn't in control of myself that night.

I remember bits and pieces of the fight, and I remember thinking that I was going to die. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill me and I wanted him to, but I was scared. I wanted to die, but at the same time I wanted to scream for someone to help me, and to beg him not to do it.

I remember being shot.

It was a blinding pain, like nothing I've ever felt before, and my ears were ringing. I think I blacked out a few seconds later, so my memory of it isn't good. All I remember is the pain.

I was supposed to die.

When I gained consciousness I couldn't open my eyes, but I felt peaceful. Everything was silent, and I felt warm and comfortable. There was no pain, but I remembered what had happened. I remembered being shot, so my first thought was that that was what it was like to be dead.

I was happy.

It was what I wanted.

The first sign that I was alive was a faint smell, and I couldn't place my finger on it, but as soon as I noticed it I knew that I wasn't dead. Every time I tried to move I realized that I couldn't. It was like there was a pressure on top of my whole body, like I was underwater.

I felt myself slowly coming back to full consciousness when I heard a faint voice coming from somewhere near me. It was a man's voice, then another. Two people talking to each other. I didn't recognise either of the voices and it made me a little on edge.

Who were these people?

Where was I?

Did they even know I was there?

At that point my instincts kicked in, and I managed to force my eyes open a little. It took a lot of effort on my part, as my body seemed to want to stay asleep, and was fighting me with everything it had. Opening my eyes didn't do me any good, as I realized all I could see were some various, fuzzy blobs, and a light above me that it hurt to look at.

However, I took it as a definite sign that I was alive, and decided that wherever I was, I didn't want to be there anymore, so I started the battle to try and get the rest of my body to move. It was rather difficult, as all I could move at that point were my fingers, and even that took a ridiculous amount of effort, but I continued on, eventually managing to move one of my arms, which fell off the side of whatever I was lying on.

I could still hear the voices, so it looked like they hadn't noticed me yet, but seeing as the more my hearing came back, the louder they sounded, I decided that they were closer than I first thought, and I had to get out of there quickly.

Struggling to lift my right arm, I thought it wise to do a quick check-over on myself, just to make sure everything was as I remembered it. I had just been shot, after all. I moved my hand onto my face, noticing that everything seemed completely normal, and to my surprise, there wasn't even any blood. No bandages. No stitches. Nothing.

As you can imagine, having been shot in the head after having a gun forced into my mouth, I was quite disturbed by the fact that nothing seemed to be wrong with my face.

I'll admit, a small sense of relief overcame me, and I knew that under these new circumstances I had even more reason to want to get out of this place. I was uninjured. I could escape without worrying. I decided to wait until my sight was a little better, and the fuzzy blobs started to form shapes of furniture, before using all the strength I could muster up to push the top half of my body upright.

Big mistake.

The pain in my head that came with this movement was more than I could possibly bear. It hurt so much I nearly blacked out, the shapes in front of me immediately reverting to a blur of colours and my entire body instantly stiffening, preventing me from moving again and doing more damage.

It was so intense it literally made my stomach lurch, and I threw up, gripping onto the edge of the thing I was sitting on to stop myself from falling.

My mouth tasted like blood.

The voices stopped at this for a few seconds, before someone was talking quickly, and I heard a door close and footsteps moving towards me.

In the state I was in, I couldn't move to see the person approaching me. There was nothing I could do. My head was still pounding and my entire body was shaking, making it difficult to keep myself upright.

Just as I was about to fall, I felt a hand on one of my shoulders, pushing me back so I was lying down, and some other faint noises I couldn't put my finger on, before I, thankfully, lost consciousness due to the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time I regained consciousness it was silent once again, and I couldn't feel anyone near me. The pain in my head was now a dull, throbbing sensation, not nearly enough to bother me after the pain I had experienced earlier.

I managed to open my eyes quite easily this time, finding that wherever I was it was much darker than before. I could see everything quite clearly, and, upon a short inspection, I realized that I was lying on a couch in someone's living room.

The room itself wasn't much to talk about. The walls and floor were all bare, aside from a few posters and...road signs? There was a tiny TV placed on top of what looked like a broken vending machine lying on its side, and a traffic light pole next to the couch I was currently lying on. The only normal things in the room were a wardrobe in one corner, and a small table with two chairs, beside a door containing a very questionable neon sign.

It was quite clear that a man lived here. There were empty beer bottles on the table, and one of the doors of the wardrobe was open, revealing an array of leather jackets and boots. At the other side of the room there was a guitar case propped up against one of the walls, near a small area containing shelves full of weapons, with a dartboard attached to the wall in between. The weapons all looked like they had been used.

Whoever this person was, I definitely didn't want to mess with them.

Sitting up much more slowly this time, I noticed that the top half of my body was completely bare. It was a little disconcerting, considering the fact that I was sure I was wearing a shirt before I passed out, but what was more concerning was the fact that the inside of my mouth still tasted like blood.

Now, I'm not exactly a medical genius, but it's clear to me that vomiting blood isn't normal under any circumstances.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave here?

What would I do on my own?

I had nowhere to go.

Glancing around again briefly, I noticed that a blanket had been placed over the lower half of my body, and there was a seemingly untouched glass of water beside me on the table. If this person wanted to hurt me, then why would they be making sure I was comfortable like this?

I decided to drink the glass of water, thinking it better to get rid of the taste in my mouth than worry about who left it there, before nearly smashing it on the table as I put it back, upon hearing a noise coming from one of the other rooms.

My gaze quickly settled on the weapons in the corner, wondering how I could use them to defend myself if this mysterious person actually did want to harm me.

After a few minutes of sitting in complete silence, I decided that they probably weren't coming out. It seemed like the middle of the night, after all. They were probably asleep.

This was my only chance to get out of here.

I quickly shoved the blanket away from my legs, standing up slowly and a little shakily, but otherwise okay, nearly tripping over a bucket that had been placed next to me. Clearly whoever it was didn't want me to vomit on their floor again.

Looking down, I realized that my shoes had also been removed. It was a little cold, considering I hadn't been wearing socks, and the floor was bare stone, but once again this concern was overshadowed by the fact that I was still in someone's house, I didn't know them, and I probably had some kind of concussion.

Another noise from the room near the wardrobe, which I was guessing was a bedroom, brought me to my senses, and I decided to quickly get my act together, sneaking to the wardrobe and pulling out the first shirt I could find, slipping it on. I couldn't go outside like this, after all.

However, my plan came to an end as the door beside me opened, a tall, relatively handsome man with his hair in a ponytail coming out. I stopped in my tracks as he folded his arms, leaning against the door frame and watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

Not that I'd have been able to read any other expression.

I'm not good with people.

It seemed like an eternity as he continued to look at me, and I couldn't move, no matter what my mind was telling me. It wasn't the way he was looking at me. It wasn't the fact that I was obviously trying to sneak out and had just been caught. I knew this man.

This was the man who shot me.

"Are you cold?" he asked, breaking the silence, and I found myself taking my first breath in what felt like half an hour.

His question threw me off somewhat. Why would he ask me that, of all things? He tried to kill me, and I threw up on his floor, and I was clearly trying to steal one of his shirts. Surely 'what the Hell are you doing?' would have been a more appropriate opening line.

I shook my head, finding myself unable to speak to him.

It was a lie. I was freezing.

"Then do you want something to eat or drink?" he continued, unfazed by my silence, "You've been through a lot, so you need to build up your strength."

He walked past me to another door, opening it and going through into a small kitchen.

I had no idea what to do, so I stayed where I was, watching him in slight disbelief. The strange thing was; I wasn't angry at all with this man. He tried to kill me. I should have hated him. But I didn't.

Maybe it was the fact that he was being so nice to me. It was something I wasn't used to at all, especially from adults, and it had taken me by surprise.

I continued to stare at him as he returned from the kitchen, steering me back to the couch and sitting me down, pushing a glass of water into my hand.

"Here. You should keep drinking. You're probably dehydrated." he said somewhat casually, perching himself on the edge of the table in front of me.

I drank most of the glass of water with him watching me, feeling slightly unnerved, before he spoke again.

"So, what's your name?"

I tightened my hands around the glass, staying silent. There was something about people asking me questions that made me nervous.

"Not the talkative type, huh?" he chuckled, still watching me, brushing a few strands of dark blonde hair from his fringe behind his ear, "It's okay. You don't have to answer me. I get it."

I continued to stare at the floor, willing him to go back to his room and leave me alone. After a few minutes he seemed to take the hint, and got up, walking back over to the doorway of the room he came out of, stopping briefly.

"You can relax. I'm not gonna hurt you. You're safe here." he said, before going into the room and closing the door.

I didn't move at all as what felt like another hour passed by. I didn't know what to think anymore. Was this man helping me? Why?

What would make him want to help me?

I quietly placed the glass down on the table, hoping not to wake him again, before returning to lying on the sofa, pulling the blanket from the floor and over myself.

I still didn't trust this man, not at all, but something was telling me to stay here. Something was preventing me from leaving.

I had no other option.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were spent with little conversation. I still didn't want to talk to this man, and he still didn't want to leave me alone. It was like every single time I did something he would be there, making a comment or asking me questions.

Don't get me wrong, the attention wasn't all bad. After all, he did buy me new clothes, which meant I no longer had to sit around in the old, dirty, torn ones I had been wearing for quite a while now. He even let me pick them out, and, considering that this area of town only had one small boutique, they weren't exactly cheap.

On top of that, I was much healthier than I had been on the night I first got here. I was eating properly, and he seemed to be trying very hard to get me to like him, as he would always make an effort with the food. Though it was quite obvious he wasn't very skilled with cooking.

He was making an effort in other areas, too. He took me to get my hair cut, which, although it didn't bother me that much, really needed to be done, and he kept buying me extra little things. It was awkward, because I was still trying to be stubborn and not talk to him, which meant I couldn't refuse any of his gifts or make any comments.

I think he knew what I was doing, and this was all a ploy to get me to talk to him.

The first time I actually spoke was a mistake, and I wasn't paying attention. He caught me off-guard while I was sitting in the living room watching TV. We didn't get to watch TV very often at the orphanage, so it was a real luxury, despite how small it was.

Anyway, I was engrossed in a news story about this supposedly psychic woman who thought she could predict what the weather was going to be like next month or something, when he happened to walk into the house.

"Hey there, sport. You feeling alright today?"

This had become a regular question, and usually, like with his other questions, I chose not to answer it, but this time my brain seemed to have other ideas.

"Yeah."

It had been so long since I had actually spoken that the sound of my own voice came as a shock to me, and I had to pause and think about it for a while before I decided that I was the one who had actually said that.

He seemed just as shocked as I was, and before I knew it he was once again perched on the table in front of me, blocking my view of the television.

"So, are you finally deciding to speak to me?"

He looked happy.

I decided that after speaking once, I could no longer use silence to protect myself, and that the game was pretty much over. I had to talk to him now.

"...I guess so."

His face lit up at this simple three word answer, and he was watching me with what looked almost like excitement.

"Alright. Good. Can I get your name now? We've been living together for about a week now and we still don't even know each other's names. Don't you think that's weird?"

I shrugged a little, trying to act uninterested, but he saw through it instantly, holding out his hand towards me and smiling.

"I'm Vashyron. It's nice to finally meet you properly," he chuckled, waiting for me to shake his hand. Which I did, reluctantly.

"...Zephyr."

"Zephyr. So how old are you? You've gotta be, like, sixteen, right?"

"Fifteen."

He seemed to find this amusing.

"So is that all I'm getting, now? One word answers?"

I opened my mouth to reply, before he cut me off by laughing.

"I'm kidding. I'm just happy that you're talking to me at all."

I continued to sit there and stare at him blankly. It felt so strange to have a normal, friendly conversation with this man after what happened. He tried to kill me, and if I had had the chance, I would have killed him.

Yet, here he was, sitting close in front of me, chatting away like we were simply old friends. I didn't feel uncomfortable, either, like I usually did when I was talking to adults. Probably because they were usually talking about me rather than to me or telling me how worthless I was and how ashamed my parents would be if they were alive.

This man, Vashyron, was doing neither of those things. He was talking to me like I was a regular human being, like we were friends, like he actually cared about my opinion. He wasn't condescending or critical or patronising, he was just...nice.

"So, you have anything else to add or should I try again tomorrow?" he chuckled, breaking me out of my daydream.

I simply shrugged, hoping that he was just going to let me get back to staring blankly at the TV. Nice or not, I still didn't like talking to people if I didn't have to. It's what normal teenagers do, right?

He laughed again, the sound of which I was quickly becoming used to. He seemed to find pretty much everything amusing in some way or another. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It meant that the atmosphere in the house was always relaxed, and I liked that. No arguing, nobody saying mean things about someone else, no shouting, nobody trying to force me to do anything I didn't want to do. I guess I kind of liked it here.

He stood up and began making his way towards the kitchen, probably to prepare tonight's meal, whistling as he went, and I found myself watching him instead of going back to the TV.

Anything else to add?

I guess I _should_ make more of an effort to talk to him; especially after all he's done for me.

"...Your cooking kinda sucks."

He paused in the kitchen doorway without turning around, and I immediately regretted the words that came out of my mouth. I watched him silently for another minute or so, before he laughed, even more loudly than usual, continuing into the kitchen.

"Just for that comment, I'm gonna make it extra horrible tonight!" he shouted from inside the kitchen, and I heard the familiar noise of the fridge opening, which was nearly always accompanied by the sound of glass bottles rattling together. He liked alcohol, a lot, but he never let me drink any. It was kind of a good thing, though. At least I knew he was somewhat responsible.

I relaxed back against the couch, looking back at the television screen, which was now showing an advertisement for the boutique I mentioned before, and I couldn't help feeling at ease. It almost felt...normal. My life was never normal. It was far from it. Yet, this man had suddenly appeared in my life and changed everything overnight.

I was supposed to die, but instead I was sitting comfortably, watching TV and having dinner cooked for me.

Maybe it was fate that I was here. That tragic event in my life had led to this, and this was good.

I could get used to this.


	4. Chapter 4

Life with Vashyron was good, but it was far from perfect.

It was nothing to do with him; he was perfectly nice. He was more than nice, and the more time I spent living with him the more I grew to sort of like him. The problem was me.

I usually woke up through the night with headaches; _bad_ ones, and I knew that it was an after effect of that night. Being shot in the head, although I was still alive, had definitely left an impression. It wasn't exactly physical, either. I knew that these headaches were being caused by memories of the pain. It was all in my head. That knowledge, however, did not give me any relief from the pain I often woke up to in the early hours of the morning.

It didn't help that I had been given my own room, either. Whenever the pain came, I was completely on my own. Vashyron had bought me a bed and put it in what was previously a storehouse on the roof. It was still filled with a few boxes and various junk, but it was comfortable enough for me. I was just happy to move off the sofa.

The problem with this was that some nights the pain got so bad I was concerned for my health, but I had no choice but to suffer through it alone, not wanting to bother him, and knowing that even the short trip downstairs to his room would make the pain even worse. It wouldn't allow me to sleep, and hiding it from him was becoming difficult. I was quickly wearing down.

Some nights it got so bad that I nearly broke down into tears, but I was stronger than that. I had suffered through a lot worse, and after surviving almost certain death, I wasn't about to let something like this bring me down.

That was when the nightmares began.

I don't know if it was the headaches that triggered these horrific visions or not, but it was like my mind had reacted to the stress and the fatigue, breaking down the barriers I had just started to form around memories of my past.

They started off as quiet voices, and sometimes blurred images of people I didn't really remember, but they started to escalate, and soon they became recurring dreams, the images clearer and the sounds more intense. Some nights I would wake trembling, and would sit awake for hours trying to calm myself, only to play the dream over and over in my mind, burning the images into my brain.

They were images I never wanted to recall; images of blood, so much blood, and fire, and darkness, and silence, and corpses...corpses of people I used to know; people who had families, and friends, and happy lives...lives that I ruined.

Lives that I completely _destroyed_.

_How can there be a God in a world with people like me?_

I awoke immediately after another one of these nightmares to my heart pounding against my ribcage, the sound echoing in my ears. As usual, I spent a good few minutes staring at the ceiling before deciding to move at all, finding that when I did, the shirt I was wearing was sticking to my stomach with sweat, and my cheeks felt hot. Not only that, but the searing pain behind my eyes was back with full force, causing a wave of nausea to hit me as I sat upright.

I decided to stay still for another minute or two in fear of once again vomiting on the floor of Vashyron's house, but this seemed to have no effect, and I quickly stumbled to my bedroom door, fumbling with the handle, before taking the steps two or three at a time as I ran downstairs for the bathroom, not having time to close the door before my head was over the toilet.

Once my stomach had emptied itself not once, but twice, and the pounding in my head had worsened, I settled for a rather uncomfortable position with the top half of my body leaning against the toilet bowl, and my arms draped over it, holding onto the seat to keep myself upright. The floor was cold, and it was dark, but in my current state both of those things were good.

Those good things didn't help, however. My vision was still slightly blurred due to the pain, I was still in a cold sweat, and now my stomach was aching. The only slight relief was that throwing up seemed to have eased the nausea.

What's more, I was still feeling sensitive because of the nightmare. All-in-all, I was not in a good state, and I was at the end of my tether.

I realized exactly how weak it had all made me when I couldn't stop myself this time from starting to cry, and I noticed that I was shaking once again. The problem was that when I had started, it was hard to stop, and all I could do was try and stay quiet.

It was like all of the emotion I had been bottling up was coming out at once, and it was taking all of what little strength I had left to not completely break down into full-blown sobbing.

This sudden lack of control over my body and emotions had triggered something else, too, and I was soon even struggling to breathe properly. It was like I couldn't get enough air into my lungs, but my body wouldn't obey me and take a deep breath. All I could do was take in short gasps of air, and the more I panicked about it, the worse it got, until the point where my chest was unbearably tight, and it hurt even taking a small breath.

Just as black spots started to appear in front of my eyes and I was sure I was about to pass out, I felt a cool, gentle hand on my back, and heard Vashyron's voice. It sounded distant, but I knew it was him.

"Calm down. You're gonna be okay. Just take a deep breath."

His words seemed to give me back the strength I needed to regain control over my body, and I took what felt like my first proper breath in a very long time; but it wasn't enough, and I continued to shake, struggling to take another deep breath.

He stayed completely calm the entire time, and I felt him sit down close beside me, his hand still on my back.

It was the first real human contact I had felt in years.

"I know it hurts, but you have to try and breathe normally."

At that moment in time I was too weak, both physically and mentally, to be able to calm myself down. Usually I was the strong-willed type, and had good control over my feelings and actions. Not this time. I just felt too tired to fight anymore.

Just as that thought left my mind there was a hand on my jaw, and my head was pulled around, forcing me to look at him.

His face was slightly blurred through the tears in my eyes, but I could still make out the expression on his face.

He looked...concerned...sympathetic, even.

"Take a deep breath."

I did.

"You're having a panic attack. I know it feels horrible, but you can get yourself outta this if you calm down."

He turned my head back as I looked away from him again, embarrassed that I was making myself look like such an idiot in front of him.

"Look at me."

I managed to take another deep breath, and this time it seemed to relieve the horrible, tight feeling in my chest somewhat.

"You're gonna be okay."

Those few words were what brought me back completely, and I was soon breathing normally again. Once I was calm, I suddenly realised how silent it was in the house. It was probably still the middle of the night, yet Vashyron didn't seem to mind that I'd woke him up so early for the second time since I'd been living here. He was still sitting close to me, his hand held loosely around my jaw. His fingers were cold, but it felt nice.

It was nice to have someone care about me for once, even if it was a person I barely knew.

At this thought, I couldn't help but break down into tears once again, this time actually sobbing. I just wanted it all to go away; the pain in my head, the sleepless nights, the visions, the constant guilt I was living with. All my life I had been living with the thought that nobody cared. My parents didn't care, wherever they were, the people who brought me up didn't care, the other orphans, who kept their distance from me, whether I wanted it or not...they didn't care.

Yet here was this man, this stranger who had tried to kill me, sitting on a cold bathroom floor at who knows what hour in the morning, looking after someone like me who didn't deserve it.

Didn't that mean _he _cared?

He seemed slightly shocked at my sudden breakdown, and I felt his hand quickly move from my face. My first thought was that he was going to go back to bed and leave me alone. I was used to being alone. He had obviously grown tired of how pathetic I was being, and he was about to leave. I even felt his body shift beside me, immediately assuming he was getting up.

That thought meant that I was completely unprepared for what happened next.

He pulled me towards him, causing me to lose my balance and fall against his chest, before his arms were around me.

I couldn't have reacted even if I knew how.

It was completely out of my comfort zone. People never touched me. They never even came close to me.

I expected him to say something, but he didn't. He stayed silent. It was comforting; the fact that he seemed to understand why I was upset, and didn't feel the need to talk about it. It was exactly what I wanted. I needed _some _kind of comfort, but without someone trying to pry into my thoughts and feelings, and that was what he was doing.

_But how? _

How did this man understand me so well without knowing anything about me?

We stayed like that for a good few minutes, neither of us saying anything, but it calmed me down completely, and eventually I gathered up the strength to move myself away from him, quickly tidying myself and flushing the toilet.

I was quite embarrassed to have someone looking after me like that, especially when he was doing so much for me already.

"...I'm sorry..." I managed to mumble, my voice sounding weak and croaky.

He shook his head, patting my shoulder gently as he stood up.

"You don't have to apologise for anything," he said calmly, helping me up from the floor as I was still a bit shaky, "Come on."

He led me out into the living room, motioning for me to lie down on the couch, before covering me with a blanket.

"You need anything while I'm here?"

I shook my head slowly, suddenly finding it very difficult to keep my eyes open.

"Well, if you do..."

I didn't hear the rest of that sentence as my body gave in to sheer exhaustion and I fell asleep, thankfully to my first dreamless night in weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning I awoke feeling better than I ever had before. It was like I had let out some of the frustration that had been building up inside me, and that had enabled me to finally get some proper sleep. I was so comfortable that I didn't want to move at all. The sense of relief I felt was indescribable, and I was worried that as soon as I got up it would all go back to normal.

It felt almost like I was in a protective bubble. The couch was comfortable and warm, and the room was being gently illuminated by a window near the front door. It was clearly sunny outside. The room was completely silent besides a gentle buzzing coming from the television set which I found strangely comforting. As far as I knew it always did that.

Unfortunately I was broken out of my half-asleep trance when I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. Obviously, as that would mean getting out from under my warm blanket and making the –albeit short- journey to the other side of the room, I wasn't best pleased.

I sat up as slowly as I possibly could in fear of angering the pain in my head again, but thankfully it had no effect, and I found myself actually smiling when I realized that the headache wasn't coming back any time soon.

I glanced around the room briefly, enjoying the feeling of being able to see clearly again and testing to see if the pain would stay away no matter what angle my head was at. It did. I did, however, get a shock when I saw Vashyron sitting on the floor beside me. At first I was about to apologize about taking up the couch when he clearly wanted to sit down and watch TV or something, but then I realized that he was asleep.

He didn't look very comfortable. After all, the floor was cold, and he was still wearing the same clothes as he had been last night; sweatpants and a loose tank top which didn't look very warm. His hair was tied up as usual, but it was messy and some of it was coming out of the band, as if he had been moving around a lot in his sleep. That was when it hit me.

He had slept there all night.

For a good minute or so my mind was blank as I stared at him in disbelief. Had he slept there because he was worried about me?

He was clearly cold. I knew that because I was starting to feel the chill myself after only spending a few minutes out from under the blanket. On top of that, the floor in the living room was bare stone, and he was sleeping sitting up with his head resting against the couch at what looked like a slightly uncomfortable angle.

My first thought was to give him the blanket. It was the least I could do after he spent the small hours of the morning trying to calm me down and then slept on the ground just so he could watch over me through the night. The only problem was that if I moved to put the blanket over him he might wake up. Awkward situations like that I could definitely do without. What's more, despite probably being uncomfortable, he looked somewhat peaceful, and after waking him up in the middle of the night I thought it best to let him sleep for longer.

This meant that I was too scared to get up and go to the bathroom, however. The only thing I could do was sit there and stare at him, waiting to detect any slight movement that would suggest he was waking up. Luckily, he seemed to be in a deep sleep. His cheek was resting against the edge of the couch next to one of my knees –which I didn't dare move, despite being in a slightly uncomfortable position-, and his arms were folded across his chest in an obvious attempt to keep himself warm. As he was facing me I decided to take this opportunity to look at him properly. I spent most of my time avoiding any eye contact with him, so I had never really thought about what he looked like.

Although he had not yet told me his age, I deduced that he was probably still quite young. The only mark I could see on his face was a scar just below his hairline, which I assumed would normally be covered by his fringe. Other than that his skin was practically flawless, and I could find no other clues that would tell me anything about him. He was good-looking; there was no mistake about that. In fact, I found myself thinking that he looked rather out of place in this house and in the clothes he usually wore. In this part of town, even.

He looked like he ought to be wearing an expensive suit and living in a modern apartment somewhere in Chandelier. Yet, his home, the things in it, and his attire suggested someone who was part of the working class crowd, and the fact that there was a stash of weapons in the living room definitely did not say 'business man'. On top of that, he was well-built, and, considering his physique, it was obvious that he was very active, whatever his job was. He was clearly someone who enjoyed what he did, too, as he was cheerful all of the time, and although the house was nothing impressive, his clothing seemed quite expensive.

I already had a lot of respect for him, despite only having been here about two weeks. He had tried to kill me, sure, but he probably had a good reason, and I deserved it.

I was quickly brought back to reality when he opened his eyes and looked straight at me. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

Did he know that I was watching him all this time?

What felt like an hour of silence passed between us as his grey-blue eyes were fixed on mine, but it was only a few seconds, and he broke it by moving to sit upright, groaning slightly as he did.

I stayed where I was on the couch, still watching him silently, wondering if I should speak. He was the first to break the silence, however. His voice was quiet and a little coarse.

"What time is it?"

That simple question was enough to make me panic. Was I supposed to know what time it was? Would he be mad if I didn't know?

"I...I don't know. I just woke up," I lied, watching as he turned his body to face me properly, leaning his elbow on the couch beside me, smiling.

"Are you feeling okay this morning, sport?"

I don't know why he always called me that, but I had grown to like it. The fact that he had given me a nickname showed that he had affection for me in some way or another, and, like I said before, knowing that at least one person cared about me gave me hope.

I nodded quickly, trying my best to force a small smile in order to show my gratitude. He seemed to like this a lot, as I could have sworn his face lit up a little, and he chuckled.

"Are you up for some breakfast? I have big plans for today," he said as he pushed himself to his feet using the couch. He took the tie out of his hair and it fell down to his shoulders.

_Plans? _

What plans?

I couldn't decide whether this was good or bad.

Answering with another nod, I watched as he held the band between his teeth and pushed his hair back with his fingers neatly, tying it in place again.

"Good," he said cheerily, patting me on the shoulder, "You're gonna be okay, so relax a little."

And with that he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts.

At first I had wondered whether the 'big plans' meant that he was going to send me away somewhere. To him that would be a good thing, right? I mean, he was obviously young, fit and healthy; he probably had a well-payed job and a pretty girlfriend. He didn't need an antisocial teenager getting in the way of his life.

But there was something about his expression, something about the way he said it and the way he looked at me that was reassuring.

I knew that he wasn't going to leave me on my own.

After finally going to the bathroom and taking the opportunity to have a quick shower and tidy myself up a bit before getting dressed, I returned to find two plates of scrambled egg on the table. After the ordeal last night I was starving, so even Vashyron's slightly haphazard cooking was welcome. I sat down at the table as he came out of the kitchen, still wearing the clothes he'd slept in, and sat down with me.

I nodded to show my appreciation, before taking a mouthful. It was better than usual, but maybe that's just because I was so hungry I would have eaten anything he had put in front of me. Not that my own cooking skills are better; in fact, they are non-existent, or that Vashyron's cooking was terrible, it just seemed like he didn't do it very often.

After a few more mouthfuls I noticed that he was watching me.

"Is it good?" he chuckled, eating some of his own, leaning his elbows on the table, "I bought a recipe book so I could do it properly."

I couldn't help but feel happy at this.

"...Just because of me?"

He laughed, eating some more, before resting his fork on the edge of the plate, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head.

"Well, now I have someone else to feed, too, I feel like I should make more of an effort."

My heart felt like it skipped a beat. Did that mean he was going to let me stay? I was getting used to living here, and I really enjoyed it. Headaches and nightmares aside, this was the first time my life felt like it had any meaning; like I had a purpose. Before this I was simply surviving, wondering what it was all for, but now I was living properly. It was like all of the pieces were finally starting to come together.

"It's good," I said, finding myself smiling at the plate in front of me, "It's really good."

He chuckled, and I could still feel his eyes on me.

"Maybe you should learn to cook, too."

"Maybe I will," I replied, finally finding the courage to look up at him. He was smiling, as usual.

"Then hurry up and do it so we can eat something decent, because I suck," he laughed, clearing away the plates when they were empty, before going into his room, presumably to get dressed.

I stayed sitting at the table, feeling content, and not just because of the meal. I was just wondering what he had meant by 'big plans', and thinking of the various possibilities –none which seemed very likely- when he returned, wearing his usual combination of leather and denim.

"Well, it's still early, which means we have a lot of time. C'mon."

He didn't explain where we were going, instead just walking to the front door with me following, unquestioning.

When we were outside he locked the front door, before we began a short journey to wherever it was we were going. I didn't really care. It was all too casual to be anything for me to worry about, and he seemed relaxed, simply striking up a conversation as we walked.

"So, now that you're actually talking to me, how about you tell me a bit about yourself?" he chuckled, both watching me and messing with his keys in one hand simultaneously.

The question took me a little by surprise, and, as easy as it was, I realized that nobody had ever asked me before. Therefore, I had absolutely no idea what to say.

"Uh...I don't..."

"You don't have to go into detail, just tell me some basic stuff. What kinda stuff do you like?"

"..."

"Okay, then...what _don't_ you like?"

"...I don't like people asking me questions."

He laughed out loud, and, despite the fact that we got a few strange looks from passers-by, I found myself laughing too.

"Oh, so you _can_ laugh!" he said cheerfully, putting his hands into his jacket pockets, "What a relief. I was beginning to think that I wasn't funny, but I know that can't possibly be true."

He continued to watch me, obviously waiting for a proper answer.

"I...don't like school. It's really boring, and not because it's hard. I guess I just...don't like sitting around doing stuff like that. I wanna do something useful; something where I feel like I'm making a difference. I don't feel...right...when I'm at school."

He seemed somewhat excited by this answer, bringing his hands back out of his pockets and patting my shoulder firmly.

"Then you're gonna like what we're doing today," he chuckled, stopping outside a large gateway with a broken neon sign reading 'Welcome', some of the letters flickering and sparking. This place clearly wasn't well-maintained.

He led me inside to a desk where there were two men, and I stayed out of the way as he spoke to one of them. From what I saw, Vashyron handed the man some money, and they spoke for a while longer, before he came back to me.

"C'mon. We can go in. We've got a whole hour."

I was about to ask what exactly we had an hour to do, but he didn't give me a chance to answer as the large grating beside the desk slid open, and he walked through, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

Whatever this place was it looked kind of serious, to say the least.

Feeling curious, I followed him inside to find him standing in the middle of what looked like a large arena. At this I became a little concerned, wondering what he had brought me here for, and why.

"So, you prefer being active to sitting around studying?" he asked as I approached him, and I nodded, before he took an expensive but well-used looking handgun out of a holster on his thigh, holding it out to me.

I was a little worried about taking it from him. After what I had done, I wouldn't trust myself with a weapon of any kind, never mind a gun. However, he seemed to be completely nonchalant about it, and he pushed the gun into my hand, forcing me to take it.

"Well, it's your lucky day. I booked this arena for an hour, so you can blow off some steam," he chuckled, motioning around us at the vast, empty space, before several targets popped up out of the ground, each one containing a series of red circles.

"I think you have the wrong impression of me..." I began, trying to give him back the gun, but he pushed my hand aside, shaking his head.

"You at least know how to use a gun, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Then I'm gonna teach you how to use one properly."

I'm not going to lie; the prospect excited me a little. I didn't really know how to use guns very well, but every time I had done it before it had been one of the best feelings I knew. The adrenaline rush is like no other.

"So, how about you show me what you can do? The safety's already off." he continued, pointing to one of the targets and moving to stand behind me out of the way.

I was nervous, of course, but the chance to do this again was one I wasn't going to pass up. I held the gun in both hands, lifting my arms and aiming at the target, very aware that he was watching me closely. There was a large part of me that really wanted to impress him.

I pulled the trigger, but before I could check to see where it had hit there was a ringing pain in my head and I dropped the gun, quickly holding my hands over my ears. I felt my breath starting to speed up and once again I could hear my heart pounding in my chest; but just as my vision began to blur my hands were pulled away from my head and I found myself looking at Vashyron.

"Hey," he said, calmly, his eyes locked onto mine just as they had been the night before, "It's okay."

Before I could process what was happening he gripped my shoulders and spun me around to face the target, where there was a bullet-sized hole just left of the centre.

"Very good," he said cheerily, patting me on the back, "With a bit of training you'll be a pro."

The pain in my head was completely gone, as if it had simply been my imagination.

"But you have the wrong posture, and that's the most important thing," he continued, walking around me and picking up the gun from the ground, giving it back to me, "Try it again, but this time let me help."

I nodded, taking the gun in both hands again and raising my arms, but he stopped me.

"You're shaking. You won't be able to handle a gun like that."

"...I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize; just relax. I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help you. Take a deep breath."

I did as I was told.

"Now..." he placed his hand under one of my wrists, lifting my arms a little higher, "...Don't hold the gun too tightly, just use your left hand to keep it steady, and make sure your arms are straight. Then just use the sight on top of the gun as a guideline. You'll get used to aiming the more you practice, so don't worry about it too much."

He moved his hand away, standing beside me.

"Oh...I almost forgot; if you pull the trigger as you breathe out, your hands will be steadier."

Taking all of this into consideration, I took another deep breath, aiming at the target through the sight on top of the pistol and pulling the trigger. This time, there was no pain in my head, but the noise still made me flinch a little, and the bullet missed the centre again. It was closer than last time, but I couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Vashyron, however, seemed overjoyed.

"Good job!" he chuckled, "See? You're really good at this! Looks like I picked the right student!"

I felt my heart jump a little inside my ribcage, the same as this morning, and I found myself once again smiling at nothing. After so long, hearing someone praising me like that was the best feeling in the world.

"Can I...see you do it?" I asked, curiously, holding the gun out towards him. Maybe this would bring me a little further to understanding him.

He laughed, nodding and taking the gun out of my hand.

"Sure."

I wasn't sure whether to be excited or worried by what I saw next.

He lifted the gun with one hand, barely taking a second to look at the target and ready himself, before pulling the trigger and hitting the target dead centre. He made it all look so effortless, and didn't even flinch at the recoil.

It didn't take long for me to realize that Vashyron wasn't an ordinary guy, and I felt both excited _and _nervous at the thought of him teaching me what he knew. It was like in those few seconds he became the coolest person I had ever met.

But little did I know, it had only just scratched the surface of what he was capable of.

And this man had just become my teacher.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks were tough, but it was the most fun I had ever had.

I spent the majority of each day, except weekends, training at the arena with Vashyron, and each night I went home to a warm, comfortable bed. I had water, food, clothes, a roof over my head, and everything else I could have ever wanted. What's more, I had a _friend._

The more time I spent with Vashyron, the closer we became, and the fear I had of talking to other people slowly faded into non-existence. There wasn't a day that went by I wasn't happy to see him in the morning, and he was the best teacher I had ever had.

The training was easy at the beginning, and most of the stuff he was telling me I already knew, but he didn't once lose his temper with me. During the harder training exercises he stayed calm even when I got it wrong a million times; he didn't seem discouraged when I forgot things he had told me more than once, and during the easy stuff he didn't lose his cool when I wasn't paying attention.

Today was another one of those days, and we had been going over the correct way to aim at a moving target for the past half hour. We had done this twice before. Needless to say, my mind had wandered off a few minutes after he began talking. I was brought out of my daydream at the distant sound of his voice.

"Am I boring you?"

I quickly pulled myself back to reality to see him standing close to me with his arms crossed, one of his eyebrows raised questioningly. This was the first time he had ever said anything about my occasional lack of enthusiasm, and, despite the fact that he didn't seem angry, I decided that now might be a good time to kick the habit.

"...N...no...sorry...my mind wandered off."

"Well do you think you could get it to wander back here? I know we've done this before but it's really important."

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm listening."

"Alright, well, since you seem to think this is so easy it's not worth listening to, how about you show me how it's done?" he chuckled, throwing a handgun to me and watching as I struggled to catch it.

Once I had sorted myself out and was holding the gun properly, he pointed to one of the moving targets that had recently been set up for us. The arena seemed to be filled with stuff like that. No matter what kind of training you wanted to do, they would accommodate it. Vashyron told me that they even kept monsters here for live target practice.

"If you can hit that target in the centre ring, I'll let this go and we can move onto something more difficult," he chuckled, stepping back out of the way.

If there was one thing I had learned during this training so far, it was that I had a good aim. Vashyron had made numerous comments -and jokes- about how good I was at hitting a target.

I raised my arms in the direction of said object, once again enjoying the feeling of the cold steel in my hands, and aimed at the small, red ring in the centre. The target was moving relatively quickly, -Vashyron told me that they were set up to simulate the average speed of a human being, and it was quite a distance away from where we were standing, making it difficult to even _see_ the smallest circle in the middle. However, the recent weeks of training, as well as my prior 'experience' with firearms made it simple enough. I just had to focus.

Taking a few seconds to ready myself, I pulled the trigger just as the target entered my line of sight. The mark it left wasn't visible from this distance, but I heard the familiar, muffled noise of the bullet piercing the board.

Not a second later, I felt Vashyron's hand patting my shoulder.

"Nice work! I really didn't think you were gonna hit that!" he laughed, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. I must admit it felt good to prove him wrong for once, but the main thing on my mind was the joy of having someone be proud of me.

I found myself smiling again.

"Well, then I guess we can move on to the fun stuff," he chuckled, patting my shoulder again lightly, before taking the gun from me and holstering it, moving away, "But we can save that for tomorrow. It's getting dark."

He looked up at the sky as if to prove his point, and I followed his line of vision, seeing that it was, indeed, early evening.

"C'mon," he nodded in the direction of the door, before exiting the arena with me following, heading back into town.

The walk back was enjoyable as usual; we talked about unimportant things; Vashyron made jokes and I laughed, and I enjoyed the view outside the city, something I had never cared about before.

Before we reached our street, Vashyron stopped, rummaging in his pocket, before handing me a wad of slightly crumpled notes.

"Would you go and pick us up something to eat for dinner? I have a thing I need to do."

I accepted without asking what it was he needed to do. As interested in him as I was, I thought it best not to pry too much into his life. He was letting me stay with him, treating me like an equal, and teaching me everything he knew. I couldn't ask for more than that, and I didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize it in any way.

He waved to me as we went our separate ways; him, heading back home, and me making my way towards the main street where the shops were.

The walk was short, but the cool, evening air was refreshing, and the lights around the town were starting to flicker to life. To anyone else this town looked like a slum, but to me it may as well have been paradise. I passed a few residents on the way, none of whom spoke to me, but just being able to walk by them as a normal person with a normal life made me happy enough.

After picking up some hot soup and freshly baked bread from a stall with a very pretty young woman I found it difficult to look in the eye, I made my way back home, tucking my hands into the pockets on my jacket to keep them warm, the shopping bag hooked around one of my wrists. It had started to rain lightly, but I had a hood, and it didn't take long to get home from there.

When I reached the house the lights were on and the front gate was open, hanging slightly off one of the hinges as usual. It never closed properly, and Vashyron had told me many times that he was going to fix it. He clearly wasn't.

It wasn't until I passed through the gate and reached the front door that I heard voices coming from inside. It was unusual for Vashyron to have invited someone else into the house, especially without telling me.

I hesitated for a while with my fingers over the handle, before pressing my ear against the door instead. It sounded like two people were talking. One of the voices was unmistakeably Vashyron's, but who was the other? It sounded like a man, but I had never heard them before.

I heard some footsteps as the voices went silent, before the other person spoke, the words literally causing my heart to stop.

"You don't have to worry anymore; I'm here to take him off your hands."

I felt my hands start to shake as one thought ran through my mind.

_He doesn't want me anymore. _

The only thing I could think to do next was run as I heard the footsteps coming closer to the door, dropping the bag of food on the ground. I heard the door open just as I cleared the gate, but I didn't stop to look back, even as I heard them shouting my name.

The rain started to come down harder as I reached Ebel City Bridge, stopping to catch my breath briefly to find that I was now soaking wet. I didn't care.

Vashyron didn't want me anymore. Someone was there to take me away to who knows where and he was going to let them. I had known that this was all too good to be true, but I didn't think it would end like this.

No.

_I'm not going to let it end like this. _

_They can't take me._

I reached a shaking hand up to push some of my hair out of my eyes, before making my way over to the bridge railings, looking over the edge at the various gears and machine parts.

It was a long way down; that was certain.

_It's better this way._

I found myself half way between laughing and crying as I climbed over the handrail to the narrow ledge at the other side.

My life was a joke.

Every time I found happiness something came along to rip it away from me.

_I can't do this anymore._

The rain continued to come down hard as I made my way down to a gear protruding from one of the walls. It was rusted, and no longer moving, but it was sturdy enough to take my weight. I looked down into what was seemingly the centre of Basel, the grinding noises of the gears below almost drowned out by the rain.

_This is it. It's for the best._

A noise from the bridge above drew my attention a second later, and I looked up, the rainwater running into my eyes as I did.

"ZEPHYR!"

_Vashyron._

What was he doing here?

I stayed silent, not sure what to do. Part of me was hoping he would give up and go home. He shouldn't have to put up with someone like me anyway. Then again, part of me was hoping he wouldn't leave.

_Please._

That was the part that wanted him to find me; to take me back home and tell me that everything was going to be okay, and that he would never leave me. It was all just a misunderstanding.

_Help me. _

Despite the fact that I wasn't making any noise, however, he appeared a few seconds later, looking down at me from the railing. He wasn't wearing a jacket, and he was soaked to the skin.

"Zephyr!" he shouted, and although the rain was coming down hard enough to muffle most sounds, I detected worry in his voice. Not just that. _Panic. _

He climbed over the railing without hesitating, but, upon looking at where I was standing, he stopped, crouching down and holding his hand out to me.

"Zephyr, c'mon, that's not gonna hold your weight!"

I shook my head, finding that I couldn't speak anymore. The rain was thankfully hiding the tears running down my cheeks. I pulled my eyes away from his, taking another step towards the edge, hearing his voice again immediately.

"DON'T!"

The sense of urgency in his voice shocked me a little, and I looked back at him, seeing the fear in his eyes instantly.

It was unmistakeable. That wasn't the kind of look you gave to someone you didn't care about.

_Was he scared of losing me?_

"Zephyr...please! I said no! He wanted to take you and I said no!"

A great sense of relief overcame me briefly, but it didn't last long as I heard a crack, and the gear beneath my feet shifted. It was wet from the rain, and I slipped, just managing to catch the edge with my fingers before I plummeted to my death.

A few minutes earlier, I would have just let go.

But now...

"NO!"

I heard Vashyron's voice through the rain once again, and looked up to see him climbing down to me. It looked extremely dangerous; all of the surfaces were now wet and the rain didn't seem to be getting any lighter; it was likely that if he came down here he would fall.

I wasn't going to let Vashyron die because of me.

"Don't come down here! It's too dangerous!" I shouted, my voice broken with tears, but I could tell that he heard me. He didn't stop, however, not even for a second.

"Just hold on! I'm coming to get you! Don't let go!"

I was using all of my physical and mental strength to hold myself up, even when one of my hands slipped off the cold metal and my other arm was shaking under the weight of holding up my whole body.

None of that mattered.

The gear broke, and I fell, feeling taken over by fear.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this._

I vaguely remember hearing someone shout my name.


	7. Chapter 7

This time I was sure that I had died. Vashyron had stopped me from taking my own life just so it could be taken away from me anyway. His last words were playing over and over in my mind.

_I'm coming to get you...don't let go._

It seemed funny to me now.

_Don't let go. _

I tried. There was nothing I could do. There was still nothing I could do. There was never anything I could have done. This was just fate. All that was left was to hope Vashyron was okay. I just wish I knew what had happened to him after I fell. Did he go back home?

_I hope so. _

I hope he was okay.

I hope he went back home.

I hope he forgot about me.

_But I don't._

_I don't want to die._

_I want to live._

A soft buzzing noise was coming from somewhere close to my ear.

_What?_

Is this what death is like? But if it is, then how come I can still think? Why am I still conscious? Surely if I was dead there would be no sound, no thoughts, nothing.

Did that mean I was alive?

It took a while for me to realize that I could still feel my body, and move it, at that. I opened my eyes a small fraction to find I was looking at a white ceiling.

A hospital?

At that same moment all of my senses seemed to return to me. The buzzing was clearer now, and the light in the room seemed to get brighter. I found that my earlier guess of this being a hospital was correct as I looked to my right, seeing a couple of different, hospital-ish machines. Thankfully, they were switched off, which meant that for whatever reason I was here, it wasn't that serious.

Just as I was about to get up to go and investigate further, I felt a light pressure on my left arm. Thinking it was just some kind of medical equipment, I tried to lift my arm to see what it was, only to find that I couldn't.

Turning my head in that direction, I noticed why, and what I saw nearly brought me to tears once again.

Vashyron was sitting beside the hospital bed in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. He was wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw him, and they were still slightly damp in some places. On top of that, there was a dark, painful looking bruise on his right cheek just below one of his eyes, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he had been awake all night.

He was asleep now, however, and the pressure on my arm was his head, which was resting against the bed beside me next to one of his own arms. His hand, which was covered in various cuts and bruises, was laid lightly over the top of mine.

I sat up quickly but carefully, afraid of knocking him onto the floor somehow, and glanced at the door, wondering whether or not I should call someone in.

I felt okay myself, if a little disoriented and achy, but it was clear that Vashyron needed some medical attention.

Especially if this was my fault.

_How could I have let this happen?_

After all that he had done for me. He had saved me from whatever fate I would have had otherwise. Sure, he tried to kill me, but if he had left me there afterwards, who knows where I would have ended up. He had fed me, clothed me, given me somewhere to live. He had been so nice to me, and it looked like he had just saved my life once again.

Yet, despite all that I was still selfish enough to try and end it all.

_He must hate me._

But he clearly didn't hate me. He was still here, beside _my_ hospital bed, in spite of his own injuries.

In any case, 'sorry' probably wasn't going to cut it.

Realizing that sitting up had caused a dull, throbbing pain to flare up in my side; I decided to lie back down, my attention still focused on Vashyron. Part of me didn't want him to wake up. I didn't know what I was going to say or do when he did.

He looked peaceful, even with his injuries and strands of his hair hanging out of the band around his face messily. Moving slowly, I lifted my free hand to gently push some of them aside, revealing more of the bruise below his right eye. It didn't cover a very large area of his skin, but it looked quite bad; it was dark in colour, and there was a small patch of dried blood around the centre, hiding what was likely an open wound.

I retracted my hand quickly as he shifted in his sleep, his eyelids flickering as if about to open, but it was a false alarm, and he simply moved to a slightly different position, giving me back the use of my left arm. His hand was still over mine, however, and I couldn't help thinking that it was nice to feel someone else's skin touching my own, even if it was probably an accident. It was likely that he just moved his hand there while he was asleep.

Now focusing my attention there, I moved my hand a little beneath his, my knuckles brushing just lightly against his palm. His skin was very warm in contrast to my own. My hands were always cold, but it wasn't just that. There was just something about him that felt...warm, and comfortable, and safe.

It's funny how you can feel that around certain people. The only other person I'd felt like that about was a teacher I had when I was very young. I don't really remember how she looked, or her name, but I remember how it felt to be around her; probably how it felt to be with a mother. I wouldn't know.

I felt that same feeling around Vashyron.

No.

It wasn't the same, it was different.

_But how?_

A gentle pressure on my hand brought me back to reality, and, upon opening my eyes, -and wondering when I had closed them-, I found myself once again looking into Vashyron's. He had that same look as he did before, like he was worried about me, but this time it seemed to be mixed with exhaustion. It felt like a long time before either of us broke the silence.

"...You're lucky to be alive."

His words caused my throat to become uncomfortably dry, and I felt my eyes prickle with tears, but he didn't sound angry or accusing. If anything, he sounded relieved. I simply nodded in affirmation, worried that if I spoke I would break down in tears.

At this, he stood up from the chair and perched himself on the edge of the bed beside me.

"Do you know how...worried I was?"

He seemed to be struggling to get his own words out, and after looking at him properly, I could see that his eyes were slightly red, like he had been crying at some point. I felt a pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach.

Sitting up again slowly, -which hurt a lot more this time-, I shook my head, clearing my throat in a slightly awkward manner.

"...I...I'm sorry..."

My voice came out so weak and quiet that I'm surprised he heard it at all, and for a while I was sure he didn't, as he continued to sit and stare at me.

A few times he looked like he was going to speak, but decided against it, and the long silence continued, neither of us able to find the right words.

No matter what I said, it wouldn't matter. I couldn't make up for all of the trouble I had put him through. After a while, though, he shook his head, his expression softening and the worry disappearing from his face, before he pulled me into a tight hug.

My eyes were stinging with the effort of holding in the tears as I felt his hand in my hair and heard his voice beside my ear, quiet.

"Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

This was probably the closest I had ever been to another person, and, as nice as it was, I felt helpless. It felt like Vashyron was the only thing still keeping me going. How I had survived this long without anyone else there was becoming a mystery to me.

_I know what I am._

But that only means that it's more important that I have something..._someone_, to be there with me, to guide me, to teach me, to pull me back to reality when my mind threatens to drag me to that place I never want to go back to.

Vashyron was becoming that someone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I managed to say quietly again through gulping back tears, leaning against him weakly.

I knew that it wasn't good to become so reliant on someone else, so dependant, but my body felt nearly as weak as my mind, and his arms were around me protectively, keeping me there. If he wanted to protect me then who was I to say no?

"Don't," he said softly, "It's not your fault. I'm just glad you're okay."

His voice had gained back its usual calm tone, and I felt a great sense of relief. It seemed as if everything was going to be okay.

No matter what he had said at that point, I would have believed every word.

We stayed there for another few minutes, me resting against him, suddenly feeling like every muscle in my body was bruised, and him holding onto me, his fingers still in my hair, neither of us moving or speaking, before a young, female doctor entered the room and we were forced to part.

She was very kind and understanding, and it seemed like she already knew what had happened, simply acting like she was checking up on a patient who had been there for weeks. Another ten minutes or so passed as she poked and prodded me, taking my blood pressure and temperature and doing various other tests, before she smiled gently at us both.

"You are free to go home. There's no immediate danger. But you should rest for a few weeks, at least."

She motioned to Vashyron, who had returned to the chair he slept in, and they left the room together.

I felt my chest tighten uncomfortably at this, worrying that they were talking about me, and what they were saying, but Vashyron came back after a short while, holding a pile of dirty, old-looking clothes, as well as a white plastic bag. It took me a while to realize that the clothes were actually mine, and that I was currently sporting some hospital pyjamas.

"Well, here's your stuff. Don't worry about the clothes; we'll get you some new ones."

Looking at the clothes in his arms, I noticed why he would say that. They were not only dirty and ripped in places, but there were also some very noticeable blood stains in various places.

"...What happened?"

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, but I could tell that he just didn't want to talk about it. He placed the clothes on the end of the bed along with the bag, leaning his hands on the railing where a medical chart was attached.

"What do you mean?"

"...After I fell."

He took a deep breath, before shrugging, smiling slightly.

"I climbed down to get you. You didn't fall all the way, but you still got hurt quite badly. You were unconscious when I got to you. So I carried you back up and called an ambulance. They took us to the hospital and we spent the night here."

"...You...climbed down to get me?"

"Of course."

"...Are you okay?"

At this, he smiled again, nodding.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. The side of the wall broke, and some of the rubble hit me, but it's nothing major."

I was relieved, but I still couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. After all, none of this would have happened if I hadn't been so stupid and thoughtless.

Before I could question him further or start up another pathetic apology, he came over.

"Alright, come on. We're going home. Luckily, you don't have any broken bones, but you've got some nasty bruises and sprains. You need to get some proper rest."

I let him help me up from the bed when he hooked his arm under one of mine. It was a lot more painful than I thought it would be; my back and shoulders were aching, what I now knew to be a large, bruised area on my stomach was stinging like crazy, and my left leg seemed to be protesting at holding my weight.

Vashyron took it all in his stride, helping me to quickly pull on hospital slippers so I could at least walk outside, before escorting me to the front desk, where he spent a while speaking with a man who was wearing glasses and looked like a doctor.

The journey home was no fun at all; the hospital wasn't very far from where we lived, but, as nobody really used vehicles in this area aside from in emergencies, we had no choice but to walk. The upside was that the hospital gave me some crutches to use. If it weren't for that I think Vashyron would have had to carry me the entire way.

I must have looked a sight to passersby, if nothing. I was still wearing the hospital pyjamas, which were a horrible murky, grey-green colour, but now I was also wearing Vashyron's leather jacket over the top. He had insisted on me wearing it despite my protests, but it was too big, and I had to roll up the sleeves. All-in-all, it was a very strange ensemble. Once we finally reached the front door of Vashyron's house it was like I was entering the gates of Heaven. With the way my body was aching I wanted nothing more than to just fall onto my bed and sleep for about a week.

The only problem was getting there. My bedroom was on the roof, which meant climbing a set of stairs to reach it. I wasn't in any condition to be doing that, but if I had to I would drag myself there.

I flopped down onto the sofa, earning another painful complaint from my muscles, as Vashyron closed the front door behind us, dropping my ruined clothes and the plastic bag onto the table.

"You're not gonna be able to get up those stairs, are you?" he said, as if he had read my mind earlier, chuckling.

"...I could...try."

He laughed, shaking his head.

"You'll just have to use my room."

"Where will you sleep?" I asked without thinking, immediately feeling stupid once the words had left my mouth.

"In your room, obviously, so I hope you don't have anything in there you wanna hide."

He laughed again, both of us knowing that I didn't really have any possessions, never mind things I would want to hide from him. The only thing I had left from my childhood was a Bible my younger sister gave to me, and a cross I was supposed to wear but saw no point in.

"Alright," he continued, taking a deep breath and resting his hands on his hips, looking around before returning his gaze to me, "You probably wanna get some rest, so come on."

He helped me up from the couch and over to the door to his room. It felt weird because I'd never even been this close to the door of his room before, but now I was actually going to see inside it. I guess that was something about these injuries I could be thankful for, at least.

He pushed the door open as we reached it, and I was quite underwhelmed by what I saw. It was a small, plain room, with nothing in it but a single bed, a desk with a chair, and some drawers. The desk had various notes scattered across it messily, as well as a pen missing a lid, and there was a shotgun which had been taken apart lying on top of the chest of drawers. Other than that, there were no telltale signs of anyone even sleeping in here. It was even relatively tidy compared to the rest of the house.

"Well, this is it," he chuckled, sitting me down on the bed and waving his hand around at the room, "Make yourself at home. I don't really have any rules about my bedroom."

On that note, and after explaining why the desk was a mess, which was apparently because he had been getting a lot of job offers recently, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. However, just as I was about to get up to snoop around a bit, he returned, holding a glass of water and the bag he brought from the hospital.

"They gave me some medication that you should take to help with the pain. You'll be able to sleep better," he said, taking a small box of pills out of the bag and dropping two of them into my palm, before handing me the glass of water.

I took them without complaint, hoping that it would stop the dull aching that had started in most of my body. On top of that, my bruised side was becoming very uncomfortable while sitting up, and my left leg was throbbing near my ankle, which I assumed was sprained.

"I'll check up on you in the morning," he continued, putting the bag down on top of the notes on the desk, "But if you need anything else during the night don't worry about waking me up. I know you can't get up the stairs, but shout me if the pain gets really bad or something, okay?"

I nodded in reply, my eyes suddenly feeling very heavy.

"Thanks."

He smiled at me again, patting my shoulder gently, before going back out of the room and closing the door, leaving me to finally get some well needed sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

For those of you who have read the previous chapters, I mistakenly stated that Zephyr was seventeen years old. As this is a look into what happened after the Crank Seminary incident, which was a year and some months before, he would have only been fifteen. Just wanted to clear up the mistake I made, in case anyone noticed. Sorry! It has been edited now. :)

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The next morning I awoke to a whole new level of discomfort. I had fallen asleep on my back; I was sure of it, but somehow I'd ended up lying on the side of my body that was bruised, and it now felt like someone had been hitting me there repeatedly through the night with a very heavy object.

Sitting up after that was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, but I somehow managed to get my feet onto the floor and my body upright, ending up staring into a mirror that I hadn't noticed the night before, which was precariously balanced on top of the chest of drawers beside the shotgun. I really disliked looking in the mirror; it meant that I had to look at myself.

It's not that I found anything particularly displeasing about the way I looked. In fact, I had heard a few people around the town mentioning that I was good looking as I passed them on the street. It was strange and embarrassing hearing people talk like that about me. I had never considered myself particularly attractive before; to me I just looked like a normal teenage boy. That wasn't the point, though, as every time I looked in the mirror I wasn't thinking about that. I didn't _see_ a normal teenage boy.

All I ever saw was a monster.

Aside from that, I looked a mess at the moment. Despite the fact that Vashyron had taken me to get my hair cut a few weeks ago, it still didn't look 'good', in my opinion. It was shorter now, but my hair never did what I wanted it to anyway, so the majority of the time I woke up looking like a homeless person. On top of that, there were now a few small injuries in various places on my face, and, as I had been crying the day before, my eyes were very slightly red. I had also fallen asleep wearing Vashyron's jacket, and, as nice a jacket as it was, combined with my hospital pyjamas and bed hair it only added to the whole 'hobo' image.

Brushing my hair roughly with my fingers, I pushed myself up from the bed slowly, my muscles aching in protest. I thought about asking Vashyron to come and help me, but couldn't bear the thought of him having to do anything else, so I settled on shuffling to the bathroom instead to do my morning routine. When I emerged from the bathroom, my eyes were immediately drawn to the wardrobe beside Vashyron's room. Most of his clothes were in there, but he had given me my own space, so we were now sharing it. My problem now would be getting dressed without causing myself any more harm.

I slowly made my way back to Vashyron's room, pulling some black jeans and a plain red t-shirt out on the way past, before pushing the door closed and starting the task of actually getting them onto my body. It was quite painful, and my limbs did not want to move the way I told them to, which meant it was a very slow process, but eventually I was free from the disgusting hospital attire and wearing something more comfortable. I left Vashyron's jacket on the end of the bed.

_Quite reluctantly, I might add. _

Just as I was about to go and get something to drink, however, I heard strange noises outside the bedroom door. It wasn't very loud, but it sounded as if someone was moving the furniture.

I opened the door a small crack, peeking through the gap to see Vashyron, still wearing the kind of clothes he usually slept in, with his hair tied up messily, carrying a box across the room to the front door. He looked rather cheerful, however, and I watched as he brought box after box from upstairs, piling them up. I could tell that they were the boxes from my room, I just didn't know why he was moving them, or where.

It wasn't long before he spotted me watching him and came over, chuckling and pulling the door the rest of the way open, smiling.

His hair was falling around his face out of the tie, and the shirt he was wearing was hanging off one of his shoulders as he leaned in the doorway toward me, but he still looked like he could have just stepped out of the pages of a men's fashion magazine.

_Was I jealous?_

Or...

"Hey there, sport."

"...H...hey."

"Did you sleep well?"

I nodded as he came past me into the room, taking the box of pills out of the bag he left on the desk and handing two of them to me.

"Here. You should keep taking these so the pain doesn't get really bad."

Before I could reply he was heading towards the kitchen, so I followed him in there, leaning against one of the counters to give my left leg a rest. The kitchen was small, but it had everything a kitchen should have, and it wasn't dirty or old. There was even a washing machine and a dryer. I had found nothing to complain about so far.

He slid a glass of water over to me across the counter top after filling it from the sink, chuckling.

"Can I get you anything else?"

I simply shook my head, taking the pills and drinking the rest of the water from the glass, but it was nearly knocked out of my hand when he started steering me out of the kitchen and towards the table, sitting me down.

"Well, you need to eat to keep your strength, so I'll make you something."

He returned to the kitchen without saying another word, leaving me to wait at the table, wondering what he was doing but feeling rather relieved to be seated.

The boxes from my room were in a pile by the front door, as if he was planning on taking them somewhere. I had no idea where, or even what was in them, but it would be nice to finally have them out of my room.

Vashyron returned to the living room a few minutes later, placing a large plate of pancakes on the table in front of me. They looked like he had just made them himself, and there was a warm, deliciously sweet smell wafting up from the pile. They were practically smothered with golden syrup, and there was a huge blob of whipped cream in the centre.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, jokingly, looking back up from the plate to meet his eyes.

He was grinning at me, as usual, but there was something even more cheery about him than normal. I watched as he pulled the chair from the other side of the table and sat down beside me, smiling and ruffling my hair.

"Happy Birthday, Zephyr."

It took me a very long time to process those simple words.

_It was my birthday?_

_Since when?_

"H...how..."

"I spoke with the people who used to look after you and they gave me your birth records. Today's your birthday, right?" he chuckled, patting me gently on the back and taking a bite out of an apple he had brought with him from the kitchen.

I continued to sit there in silence, unsure how to feel about this situation. The main concern being that I had forgotten my own birthday. Then again, I didn't even know what day it was right now.

I brought my gaze back to his, hoping that my expression showed confusion and he didn't think I was just being ungrateful.

"...Thank you," I managed to croak, hoping that he couldn't see the tears about to form the corners of my eyes.

This was, after all, the first time someone had ever done something like this for me. Not only did he know it was my birthday when I didn't, but he had obviously thought about it, even if it was just a little.

He smiled again, leaning his elbow on the table and taking another bite out of the apple he was holding.

"So, how does it feel to be sixteen? Two more years and you're technically an adult."

"I...don't know..." I shrugged, realizing that I hadn't really thought about it myself. Although I suppose the fact that I had survived this long after being shot in the head and then falling off a great height was an achievement in itself.

He laughed at this, finishing the apple and placing the core on the table, taking his hair out of the tie and brushing it with his fingers.

I found myself slightly mesmerized by this; his hair was actually a beautiful mix of different shades of blonde, and in some lights it had a certain golden glimmer to it. It wasn't until he spoke again that I realized I was staring.

"So, you're that enthusiastic about your birthday, huh?" he said sarcastically, chuckling, placing the hair tie around one of his wrists, before leaning on the table, watching me, "Aren't you gonna eat anything? I made those especially for you."

I managed to pull my eyes away from him long enough to realize that he was talking about the pancakes, and, with perfect timing, my stomach growled quite loudly, causing him to laugh again.

"Eat," he said, tapping the edge of my plate with one of his fingers, before pushing his chair back and getting up, taking the apple core into the kitchen.

I picked up the fork he had left on the side of the plate, scooping a generous helping of the pancakes, syrup and cream into my mouth. It was easily the most delicious thing I had ever eaten in my life. I had a very sweet tooth, but rarely got the chance to eat things like this while living in the orphanage.

He came back just as I had finished eating, clearing the empty plate from the table and ruffling my hair again.

_He seemed to enjoy doing that._

"So, was it any good?" he chuckled, taking the fork from my hand when I held it out to him.

"Yes."

"You're the worst critic ever."

"It was delicious."

"That's better."

I think he would have touched my hair again had he not been holding the plate, but he was, so he simply returned to the kitchen to wash up while I went back to the bedroom to pull on some socks and shoes.

He didn't come out of the kitchen for a while, so for a good few minutes I was just sitting on the bed wondering what to do. Even after living here for weeks already, I still didn't feel comfortable treating it as my own home, which meant that I couldn't spend time just sitting around watching TV, even though I would have quite liked to.

Instead, I decided to take a proper look around Vashyron's room while I had the chance. I pushed the door to, leaving a relatively small gap. This way he wouldn't be able to see me, but I would be able to hear him if he came back.

I started on the desk first, finding nothing of real interest. There were two small drawers on the front of it, but both only contained piles of notes, receipts and various stationery, mostly broken pens. The notes didn't tell me anything, either, as they were all just lazily scribbled names and addresses, with brief summaries of what the person or company wanted him to do.

Just as I was about to move on to the other areas of the room, I heard footsteps as Vashyron came back out of the kitchen, and I quickly returned to my spot on the edge of the bed. If he came in I could simply pretend to be fastening my shoes.

From where I was sitting, I saw him walk across the living room and stop in front of the wardrobe right next to the door to the room I was in. I heard him open one of the doors, but couldn't see it from this angle. As long as he was getting some clothes so he could go and get dressed, that would mean I could continue my investigation once he was upstairs.

Or so I thought.

Instead, I literally felt my cheeks heat up as he pulled his tank top off over his head, placing it somewhere in the wardrobe, revealing a very attractive, model-like torso. He was lightly tanned, and from the outlines of the muscles on his stomach it was obvious that he was in good shape. He wasn't overly muscular, however, and as he leaned over the wardrobe to look inside, I found myself thinking that from this angle, and with his hair covering part of his face he looked rather feminine. It was an odd contrast, the way his hair was lightly brushing against his neck and shoulders every time he moved, yet at the same time the muscles in his stomach would become more pronounced as he bent down.

Despite feeling both embarrassed and slightly jealous at the same time, I found that I couldn't look away, simply continuing to stare as he rummaged through the wardrobe, probably to pick a shirt. I was now fully aware that if he even turned his head a little, he would see me watching him, and if I made any noise; that was the obvious outcome.

However, I literally stopped breathing as he slid off his sweatpants, too. Thankfully, he was wearing underwear, but it was ever-so-slightly too tight and left little to the imagination.

Luckily for me, having never done anything remotely sexual in my life and having been brought up in a strongly religious orphanage, I didn't _have_ a lot of imagination to use.

But there was still some part of my brain that allowed my eyes to wander down his stomach, wondering what...

"Zephyr," he said, suddenly coming into the room, causing me to nearly fall off the bed in surprise.

I could do nothing but sit and stare at him, my eyes slightly wide, but I somehow managed to quickly move my line of sight up to his face, hoping that my cheeks didn't look as hot as they felt.

"Y...yeah?"

My voice came out high enough for only dogs to hear.

He laughed out loud, leaning in the doorway of the room and pushing his hair back behind one of his ears.

"Puberty getting you already? I couldn't quite hear that."

I cleared my throat, repeating it, this time in a normal tone.

"Have you seen my black shirt?"

_Are you kidding? You came in here to ask me that?_

"Uhh...you mean...the one you were wearing yesterday?"

"Yes!" he laughed, clapping, before disappearing again.

I heard him walking up the stairs.

Still sitting in the same position, I managed to take a deep breath, feeling reality suddenly hit me again like a slap in the face.

If he had noticed that I was watching him, -and he nearly did-, I would have never been able to look him in the eye again. I had been _way _too careless, and it wasn't like me.

Then again, it wasn't like me to stare at men while they were undressing, either.

I pushed myself back up off the bed, pacing around the room a few times, before nearly walking into Vashyron as he came back into the room, this time fully clothed.

"So, are you feeling alright this morning? Seeing as it's your birthday I thought we could go out," he said casually, completely ignoring my surprise.

"Um...yeah, sure."

"Isn't your leg hurting?"

"...Not really," I lied, shrugging it off, "I...think those pills are working."

He smiled, once again reaching out to ruffle my hair, and this time I felt myself flinch slightly when he did. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice, and left the room again, taking his jacket from the end of the bed next to me on the way out.

After taking a brief moment to pull myself together, I followed him out of the room, and we left the house, making our way towards the town. I found myself completely lost in thought for most of the walk, and he even stopped a few times to ask if I was alright, but luckily I was able to blame it on the injuries I had.

The truth was I that I was quite confused and more than a little bit embarrassed about what had happened earlier. Part of me was still worried that he had seen me watching him but was choosing to ignore it.

_What if he had?_

The main problem was that I couldn't figure out why I was watching him in the first place. As far as I knew I was attracted to girls.

_Not that I'd ever dated any._

The truth was that I had never had a girlfriend. I had never even had anything close. There had been a few girls my age at the orphanage, but, as I didn't like talking to people, we never really got along. It's not that I didn't want one, either. I used to spend a lot of my time wondering what it would be like to be that close to someone; to like someone and have them like me back.

But it never happened.

Maybe that's what it was. I was obviously just becoming lonely, and, although I hadn't gone to all of the classes I should have, I still knew enough about puberty to know that this point in my life was going to be awkward.

_Hormones, right?_

_Yeah, that's what it was._

Vashyron stopped me with a hand on my chest as we reached the shopping area of town, breaking me out of my daydream to see the weapon shop in front of me. He went in before I could ask why we were there, so I simply followed him, staying out of the way as he went up to the desk. The slightly grumpy old man was there, as usual, and Vashyron spent a while talking to him, before they were passing things back and forth. I couldn't see what they were doing from where I was standing by the door, but it seemed like Vashyron handed him some money, before motioning with his hand for me to come over.

I was a little dubious, as the man behind the desk didn't seem to like me very much, but he seemed rather cheerful all of a sudden, even shaking my hand as I approached them.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he stated, pushing a very expensive looking sub machine gun into my hands.

For a second I thought that he must have made a mistake, and I was about to explain that I didn't have enough money to buy something like this, as nice as it was, but Vashyron placed his hand on my shoulder firmly, smiling.

"Happy Birthday."

"...What?"

"It's yours," he said, motioning to the weapon in my hands, "I bought it for you."

There was no way I could take this from him. Guns like this didn't come cheap; especially not this quality.

I shook my head quickly, placing the gun on the counter top carefully, but Vashyron picked it back up, giving it to me and steering me back towards the door, waving to the salesman as he did so.

"It's a birthday present, so you have to take it," he said as we exited the store, "It'd be rude otherwise. You don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?"

Once again I tried to give the gun back to him, but he held his hand over mine instead, refusing to take it.

"It's yours," he smiled, "I want you to have it. It's your birthday."

I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of my own lips, before it became laughter, and I ended up grinning like an idiot.

"Thank you."

I honestly couldn't believe that he had gone to all of this trouble just because it was my birthday. After all, I hadn't even known what day it was. He obviously cared a lot more than I did.

I suddenly found him hugging me as my brief fit of hysteria came to an end, and this time I decided to reciprocate. It felt extremely weird having my arms around another person. He felt kind of solid, clearly due to his toned physique, but he was actually much warmer than I was, and he was obviously being gentle due to my various injuries. He was quite a bit taller than me, but my head still reached his shoulder. His hair smelled faintly of almond. I think it was from the shampoo in the bathroom.

When he pulled away he was still smiling, and he ruffled my hair again playfully, motioning to the gun in my hand.

"So do you wanna go try it out?"

_That was the stupidest question I'd ever heard._


	9. Chapter 9

(To any of those who are interested, I currently run a VashyronxZephyr blog on Tumblr. I know that the pairing (and the game itself) isn't very popular and it's difficult to find fanart, so I have dedicated some of my time to doing just that. Just in case anyone's interested and would like to see some art of this pairing. Some of it is NSFW. PM me if you would like a link, as I am not going to post it on here. Thanks xx)

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Over the next couple of weeks my injuries healed very quickly, mainly due to the fact that Vashyron insisted on doing everything for me and wouldn't let me get off the couch unless it was to use the bathroom. During that time I mostly watched television and ate leftover birthday cake; Vashyron kindly bought one for me despite my trying to explain how much I hated people spending money on me.

It was relaxing, sure, but the entire time the shiny, silver, brand new sub machine gun was just sitting on the table staring at me, and it was taking all of my mental strength not to grab it and run for the door before Vashyron could catch me.

_Scratch that. He could probably catch me before I even got up off the couch. _

The gun wasn't even the main problem. What I hated the most was not being able to move. I think I'm just one of those people who can't sit still, and when I do it kills me. It's like I get a strange, hot, itching feeling underneath my skin that only appears when my muscles aren't working. A couple of times I tried to beg Vashyron to let me go outside for a walk, but he just kept saying that if I moved around too much I would damage my ankle even more and have to sit still for longer. He was probably right, but that didn't make me any happier about it.

When I eventually was allowed to go outside, however, he did take me straight to the arena to test out my birthday present. It was even more exhilarating than using a handgun, and I took to it more easily, which was fantastic, because I would have felt bad if I couldn't use it properly after I'm assuming he spent a lot of money.

After that, I spent most days in the arena with Vashyron. Apparently, he was just as proficient with a machine gun as with any other weapon. It was really inspiring to watch; the way he could easily take any firearm and master it in a few moves. He told me that it was because he used to be in the army, but surely there must have been more to it than that.

It wasn't just his skill with weapons that was impressive, though. Watching him fight, I almost felt as excited as when I was doing it myself. There was just something so...intense...about it. He had so much passion, so much fire, yet he made it look so easy, like it took no effort at all. Sometimes I could just spend hours sitting watching him and feel as if I had learned more than while doing the training myself.

He didn't just teach me more about guns. He taught me about how to use your body in a fight. I had always thought that I was relatively athletic, but that was until I saw some of the things Vashyron could do. He made extremely complicated manoeuvres look like child's play, and afterwards he was never even a little out of breath.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he wasn't human.

"So, you can do that, right? Let me see."

He came over to where I was sitting at the edge of the arena, hands on hips. He had just been demonstrating how to quickly avoid an enemy attack with a back flip, something most people won't ever be able to do, but as usual he didn't have a hair out of place, despite having shown me how to do it about six times. Not only that, but it had snowed the day before, and the ground was now icy cold, even though someone had, luckily, scraped away the mush. It didn't seem to bother Vashyron at all, but I was happier to just sit bundled up in my jacket and watch him.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly when I didn't immediately reply.

"Zephyr? Hello? Is anyone in there?"

This time I was actually paying too much attention, and had been completely distracted watching him.

"...Y...yes?"

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?" he laughed.

I shook my head, bringing my eyes up to meet his. He clearly wasn't angry. He never got angry. I still felt kind of bad that I often drifted off into my imagination while he was talking to me.

"No. Sorry."

He chuckled, folding his arms and shaking his head.

"What am I gonna do with you? Honestly. I said 'you can do that, right?'."

"Uhh...I don't know. Maybe."

"It's easy. C'mon, I'll help you."

He held a hand out to me, and I was reluctant to take it. Human contact was still something that made me uncomfortable. But it was Vashyron, so I decided to once again make an exception, sliding my hand into his as he pulled me to my feet.

"You're athletic, so you'll probably be able to do this," he said, walking to the middle of the arena with me following.

I wasn't quite sure how being athletic automatically meant you could do a back flip, but usually when he said something like that, he was right, so I had no reason to doubt him.

"Okay, first of all, let's try it this way."

He held out one of his arms.

"Lean back over my arm and put your hands against the ground."

"...Okay."

I moved closer to him, resting the arch of my back against his arm, before pausing, looking at him.

"What if I hit my head?"

"Then I don't think it'll make a difference," he chuckled, "Just do it."

I was going to think of a comeback, but he was probably right. My head couldn't get much more damaged than it already was. I leaned back, using his arm to support myself, and rested my hands against the stone floor of the arena. It was like ice.

"Now flip your legs over and stand back up."

"...You said that like it's gonna be easy."

"It is."

_For you, maybe._

I contemplated it for a few seconds, but the thought of hitting my head on the concrete and, mainly, making myself look like an idiot in front of him was too much. Normally I would probably be able to try something like this and do it quite easily, but doing it in front of him was different. He was my teacher, and I wanted to impress him.

"...I can't. All of my blood is going to my head and I can't feel my hands."

He laughed.

"Then I guess you'll have to do it quickly so you can get back up."

His arm was stopping me from getting out of this position as easily as I could have.

"Can't I just...stand up again?"

"Go ahead. Good luck with that," he chuckled.

I took this as a challenge, and I knew it was something I could already do anyway, so I lifted my hands off the ground, using the muscles in my stomach to pull the top half of my body back up. The only problem being that the ground was icy, and patches of it were still lightly covered with brown slush that used to be snow. As I was putting a lot of weight onto my feet to stand up properly, I slipped, twisting my now almost fully-healed ankle, causing a spike of pain to shoot up through my leg.

Luckily, Vashyron's arm was still behind me, and he has quick reflexes. He caught me before I fell onto the ground, and I felt his arm quite tight around my waist as he leaned over me, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, are you alright? Is it your ankle?"

I managed a small nod, but in this current awkward situation couldn't make my mouth form any words. In the process of trying to not make myself look like an idiot in front of him, I had ended up making myself look like an idiot anyway. Only now, it was ten times more embarrassing.

"Okay, we should go home. I knew it was too soon to be doing any more training," he said decidedly, clearly placing the blame on himself.

"N-no! I...I'm fine. In fact, I think we should...keep training. It's the only way I'm gonna get better, right? I mean, sitting around isn't gonna help."

"Zephyr," he said firmly, looking me in the eyes, and I found myself once again unable to speak, "We're going home. C'mon."

He pulled me up properly, moving his arm from my waist and holding onto my arm gently.

"Can you walk?"

I nodded quickly, shrugging his hand off. I felt ashamed of myself. I was worried that I had let him down.

"Alright. Let's go."

I watched as he made his way towards the arena gate, occasionally checking over his shoulder to make sure I was following him, which I was, slowly.

When we got home he tried to get me to sit down so he could take a look at my ankle, but I managed to persuade him that I was okay, and that if it started to really hurt I would let him know, instead retreating into the bedroom.

I kicked my shoes off and flopped down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a while, trying to ignore the dull, throbbing pain in my ankle. It wasn't that bad, anyway. The door was closed, but I could still hear the faint sounds of the television coming from the living room where Vashyron was sitting.

It wasn't just the fact that I had made myself look stupid in front of him that was getting to me, it was everything. I just couldn't figure out what my mind was trying to do at the moment. I was still tired most of the time, and still having nightmares on regular occasions. The headaches were becoming less frequent, but there were always times when I awoke in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. Instead I would spend a lot of time staring at the ceiling, as usual. I'm not sure why, but something about it calmed me down.

The worst thing of all was the fact that, despite how nice Vashyron was to me, I still didn't feel right here. It was nothing to do with him. He never once made me feel unwelcome. The problem was with me. It was almost as if I felt unworthy to be living here with him. I was so pathetic and he was so amazing; most of the time I was worried that I was getting in his way and slowing him down.

And yet...Vashyron was so kind, and so comforting, and no matter what I did or said he would never be angry or upset with me. If I didn't answer when he spoke to me, he would laugh and shrug it off, making a joke about how antisocial I was or saying 'what am I gonna do with you?' Nothing seemed to get to him. The only time I ever saw him looking worried was...when he thought I was hurt or upset.

I rolled over onto my stomach, hooking my arms underneath the pillow and burying my face into the soft material. It smelt very faintly of almond shampoo. Whether that was from my own hair or Vashyron's, as we used the same shampoo, I didn't know, but part of me really hoped it was due to the fact that he had slept here.

At this thought, my mind drifted elsewhere, and I couldn't help thinking about how his arm had felt around my waist, and how he had been so close to me. He didn't even hesitate when he thought I was going to fall. I wouldn't have really been hurt, and the worst I might have ended up with would be a bump on my head, but he still caught me.

_Why?_

Why did he have to care so much about me?

Why did he have to be so nice?

Why did he have to be so cool?

I found myself sighing heavily into the pillow, something I had never done before. How was it that I was getting all of these weird feelings now? I didn't ask for them. Was it because I turned sixteen? Maybe you get hormones when you turn sixteen.

_No._

_That can't be it._

Surely I should have felt like this about someone before.

Anyone.

_But I can't think of any._

Why is it just him? He _did _save my life, and let me live with him, and took care of me when I was ill, and cared for me, and fed me, and bought me new clothes, and taught me how to use a gun properly...and treated me like a person.

That must be it. I like him because he's the first person to ever be kind to me. Not because I'm attracted to him.

_Definitely not. _

I mean...he is attractive.

_Very._

I felt my cheeks heat up a little at the thought. Could I really be attracted to Vashyron? I had never thought about that kind of thing before, but whenever I see him I feel...happy, and safe, and I feel like for the first time in my life someone cares about me. I can imagine what it might be like to be close to him, and I can imagine what...his lips might feel like.

_Crap._

I pushed myself up off the bed quickly, pacing around the room a little, still ignoring the complaints from my sprained ankle, before the man himself entered the room, standing in the doorway, stopping me in my tracks.

"I've got a job to go to, so I'm gonna be out for a little while. Maybe an hour or so. Are you gonna be alright on your own, sport?"

"Y...yeah, I'm just gonna...lie down for a while...and get some rest."

I pointed to the bed, as if it wasn't obvious where I would be doing this particular activity.

_Jesus, Zephyr._

"Okay, good. If you're hungry, there's still some cake in the refrigerator."

He motioned behind himself to the kitchen, smiling and patting my shoulder gently, before going out, closing the bedroom door behind himself.

I stayed in the same spot until I heard the front door, letting out a deep breath and dropping back down onto the bed face first, making sure to keep my damaged ankle out of the way when doing so.

Okay, it was official. I was attracted to Vashyron. How could I not be? He looked like a male supermodel, but he was funny, and smart, and the kindest person I had ever met. Not only that, but he was so cool sometimes I felt bad just being seen with him.

The only problem was the fact that he clearly liked women. I had occasionally seen him talking to them, and they were always laughing and flirting with him. It was a little bit annoying, but I had never once thought that I might actually be _jealous_ of those women.

But I want him to pay attention to me. I want him to tell me jokes, and tell me about all of the jobs he's done, and I want him to cook me dinner and sit and eat it with me, and I want him to laugh at the things I say, and smile at me, and say good morning to me after I wake up, and...

...I want him to like me as much as I like him.

I buried my face into the pillow again, breathing in the faint smell. If I could never tell him then at least I could still enjoy his company. I would just have to appreciate the times we were close, like today. I played that scene again in my mind; his arm around my waist, his face so close to mine. If anyone else had been touching me like that, I probably would have hit them, but Vashyron is different. It felt nice _because_ it was him.

But it wasn't enough. I wanted more than that. I wanted him to kiss me. I _really _wanted him to kiss me. Considering the fact that I had never kissed anyone before, and I was already sixteen, I wanted it all the more. I wouldn't consider myself a regular teenager, but even I get curious sometimes.

Okay, so I wanted him to kiss me, but what else was there?

My mind had never really wandered further than that. I am not exaggerating when I say that I know absolutely _nothing _about sex.

_...But Vasyhron does._

I felt my cheeks heat up again as I considered the many possibilities of what exactly Vashyron knew. He's an adult, right? And he obviously likes women, and women like him, and he's very good-looking. I can at least figure that much out.

What about me? I know absolutely nothing. If anything were ever to happen...would that bother him?

_Probably not._

I found it difficult to stop my mind from conjuring up a scenario in which something like that _did _happen. He would probably be nice about it, and he would make me feel comfortable, and he would go slowly. I suppose that's what I would want.

Then again, there's another part of me, deep down...that wants the opposite; the part that wants _him _to want _me_, and to suddenly burst into the room and...

_...and what?_

What would he do to me?

I let out another frustrated sigh as I felt an uncomfortable heat building in the pit of my stomach, and realized that my jeans were slightly tighter than usual. I knew what it was, of course, but this rarely happened to me; I never wasted time thinking about stuff like that aside from the odd dream, but that was beyond my control.

However, that didn't change the fact that my clothes were now irritating my skin somewhat...in some places more than others, and that I still couldn't manage to block my earlier thoughts out. Being in Vashyron's bedroom, and lying on his bed, of all places, did not help matters. It felt wrong for me to be thinking about him in that way while I was in here...which somehow made me want it all the more.

I slid one of my hands out from underneath the pillow, resting it against my stomach and pushing my t-shirt just a little way up using my fingers. It felt kind of nice having my bare skin touching the bed sheets, and I silently cursed myself for thinking it, but I couldn't ignore the thought that, at some point, Vashyron had been lying here.

Shifting my hips slightly so I could reach further down, I brushed my fingers over the fastening on my jeans, before pressing my palm down over the material, immediately feeling a small spike of heat through my abdomen.

I was beginning to wonder when exactly it was that I had last done this.

_A long time ago, I'd say._

It's not that I was a prude or anything. I had shared a room with some of the other boys at the orphanage, which meant I had little time for 'experimenting' with such things. Aside from that I never really felt the need to do it.

'_I'm feeling the need right now. That's for sure,'_ I thought to myself as I slid my hand down between my thighs and then back again painfully slowly, pushing down harder when I felt my body jolt a little in reaction, and I subconsciously slid my thighs a little further apart against the bed. Normally I would have been embarrassed that my body seemed so needy, but it had been such a long time, and it felt so good, that I was really finding it hard to justify not continuing, so I rather hastily unfastened my jeans, repeating the movement over the much thinner material of my underwear.

As I continued this, more roughly than before, and the heat in the pit of my stomach intensified, it became increasingly difficult to stop myself from moving my underwear out of the way, but I couldn't bear the thought of possibly making a mess on Vashyron's bed.

What's more, I was a little concerned and embarrassed by the fact that I was getting so close so quickly, to the point of which a small section of my underwear had become ever so slightly damp. Luckily, that worry was pushed to the back of my mind as I slowly rubbed my thumb over that area, which was definitely much more sensitive than I remember it being.

Trying to go slowly didn't help, and I found myself biting my lip to suppress the inevitably embarrassing noises that were trying to escape as the knot of heat deep in my abdomen seemed to tighten, and I gripped the pillow beneath my head. The fact that there was nobody there to hear me didn't matter; I couldn't bear even hearing myself like that. Even a very quiet, slightly lusty sigh made my cheeks burn when it passed the gap between my lips.

After another few minutes of this teasing, I couldn't take it anymore, raising my hips off the bed so I could move my hand more quickly over the front of the material, which was now unbearably tight. It only took what felt like a couple of seconds for me to reach the edge, and I bucked against my palm, feeling more of the material dampen, some of it sticking lightly to my skin. I still managed not to make any noise, but let out a shaky breath which it felt like I had been holding the whole time.

I didn't want to think about the reason it had all ended so quickly, but in my mind, the hand touching me definitely wasn't my own.

I lay there for a while after cleaning myself up, staring at the ceiling again and feeling guilty about what I had just done. I was obviously much more relaxed than before, if a little dizzy, but I was really wishing that I had used some other means to reach this state. Now all I could think about was how awkward I was going to feel seeing Vashyron again. Clearly, he would have no clue about what I had done, but I just knew it would end up weighing on my conscience.

I wonder how he would react if he _did_ know.

Well, he was Vashyron. He would probably laugh it off and make a joke about puberty or something, not even realizing that he was the reason behind it. It still wouldn't make it any less awkward.

After worrying about this for a while I decided to take a cool shower to better dispose of any evidence, hearing the front door while I was drying my hair in front of the bathroom mirror.

"Zephyr?!"

"...Yeah?!"

I heard him mutter something along the lines of 'oh, you're in the bathroom', before his voice grew clearer as, I'm assuming, he came over to the bathroom door.

"I bought us something to eat while I was out, so I hope you're hungry!"

There was a brief pause, before he added, "Are you feeling any better?"

Luckily I was already dressed, so I draped the damp towel around my shoulders and opened the door so we could speak face-to-face.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I was a little worried before when you said that your ankle was hurting again," he beamed, reaching out to ruffle my hair, which was still wet. He didn't seem to care.

"Oh. Yeah, well, it's fine now. It doesn't hurt anymore." I said, truthfully. It really wasn't hurting anymore. It must have just been a temporary lapse.

"Great! C'mon. I got us some of that take-out food that you really like." He held up a pale blue, plastic bag briefly, before taking it over to the table. I followed him and sat down. Truthfully, I was actually starving.

While we were eating I tried to avoid making eye contact with him at all, worried that if I looked directly at him he might somehow read my mind and know what I had been doing while he was out, but it was difficult, considering the fact that the whole time he was telling me about the job he had just done, and I didn't want to seem like I didn't care. I actually loved hearing about his work. It was really interesting; he had always met some strange people or done something exciting; most of the time I actually felt jealous that I couldn't go with him and see it firsthand.

However, I knew that he had seen through my plan when he stopped eating and I felt him watching me from the other side of the table.

"...Are you okay? You're even quieter than usual."

This time I felt obliged to actually look him in the eye, hoping that my expression didn't give anything away.

"Y...yeah. I'm just tired."

"...But I thought you were gonna take a nap. You just said you were feeling better."

_Shit._

"...W...well..."

"Was it something that I did? Wait..." he paused, and I felt my throat become dry as he watched me, before he pointed at my chest, clicking his fingers, "You're embarrassed because you couldn't do a back flip. Is that it?"

_Not exactly._

"...Yes...I am."

_I am a terrible liar._

Luckily, he bought it, chuckling and shaking his head as he ate another french fry.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. Most people couldn't even bend that far down to touch the floor to begin with, but you did it easily. You should feel lucky that you're so flexible."

_Oh God._

"...I...guess so. So...what's your next job?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and trying to look interested, hoping that the conversation would change and he would quickly forget about my being quiet and the whole back flip thing. Thankfully he took the bait, and for the rest of the meal I managed to get him to talk about other things, listening and nodding along, the whole time trying not to think about the cheeseburger I was eating, and the fact that he had known it was my favourite and bought it for me especially because of that.

After the meal he went to take a shower, leaving me to clear away the trash, before I once again returned to my..._his _room, spending the rest of the night in there while listening to the strangely comforting sound of the television, and the occasional clink of a glass bottle against the coffee table.

He came in a few times to see if I was okay, each time commenting on how quiet I was and saying that if I wanted to talk that he was happy to listen, but I couldn't bring myself to go out and sit with him, so each time I tried my best to smile and assure him that I was fine, and each time he returned to the living room seeming somewhat put out.

I wasn't particularly unhappy.

It just felt..._different_ now.

_And I had no idea what to do._


	10. Chapter 10

When my ankle had healed _again_, he took me back out to the arena to continue the previously failed training exercise. This time he was being especially careful, and during the first few minutes I even had to stop him to say that I was fine, and that I wanted to train properly. It was rather annoying, but I knew that he was just worried about me.

However, it did work, and he actually allowed me to continue practicing doing a back flip, which, surprisingly, I managed on the first try. The ground had dried out now, and even though it was still cold, there was no chance of me slipping and making a fool of myself this time. It took a while for me to be able to do it without his arm there for support, but eventually I had built up enough experience that it started to feel as simple as doing a cartwheel.

It was a little awkward having him touching me, even though he was simply protecting me from falling and injuring myself again and there was nothing really _affectionate _about it; in fact, it may have been what gave me the motivation to learn to do it without him there so quickly. He still stayed nearby each time, watching me carefully and pointing out when I did something well or something for me to improve on. I knew that he was actually staying close so he could catch me if I landed awkwardly or put a hand in the wrong place, but I was still trying to ignore the fact that he was so caring. It only made me feel worse about the fact that I had developed romantic feelings towards him.

"Woah! That was _great_!" he commented after I managed to land a back flip without stumbling as much as usual, and came over, clapping exaggeratedly, before patting me on the back. This gesture was due to the fact that I ducked away as he tried to touch my hair, so he seemed to settle for that instead.

He chuckled, not seeming at all fazed by my sudden coldness, instead handing me back my gun, which he had been holding for me while I practised.

"Now that you're improving, how about we have a match?"

"A match...as in?"

"A competition. You up for it?"

"A competition?"

"Yeah!" he beamed excitedly, practically jumping up and down on the spot. Despite the age difference between us, Vashyron was usually even more energetic than I was. It didn't take much to amuse him, either.

"...What kind of competition are we talking?"

"CQC."

"What's that?"

"Close quarters combat. Hand-to-hand. No weapons. In other words, you get to punch me. Or...try to punch me, at least."

"...I don't know. It won't exactly be fair. You're so much better than me."

"And that's why we've been training for the past couple weeks. Don't you wanna find out if you've improved?"

"Well, yeah...but..."

"C'mon, Zephyr, it'll be fun." He punched my arm lightly, before adding; "Are you scared that I might beat you up?"

"...Are you drunk?"

He paused, resting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow at me.

"It's two in the afternoon and I'm not an alcoholic."

"Okay, relax. I was just asking."

He chuckled, shaking his head, before punching me in the arm again.

"C'mon. I'm gonna keep bugging you until you give in, so just save us both some time."

He took the gun back out of my hands before I could protest, placing it on the ground where his own jacket had been lying during our training, before walking backwards into the middle of the arena, motioning with his finger for me to follow him.

It wasn't so much that I didn't want to do it; anything that meant I could practice was good in my eyes, but Vashyron was so much better than me at everything it was sometimes scary, and as I made my way towards where he was standing it felt like I was walking to a death sentence.

"Okay, here's the deal. Think of this as a training exercise," he said as I approached him, "Just think of me as...a common thug or something. Now you have to think about what you would do if you were caught off guard and didn't have any weapons to protect yourself."

"Okay. What if the thug had a weapon?"

"We'll get to that another time. For now, he's unarmed."

He took his own handgun out of the holster on his thigh, showing it to me, before placing it on the ground and sliding it across to where the rest of our stuff was.

"Alright. Got it." I nodded, trying to quickly bring to memory everything he had recently taught me about self defence. Luckily, I had been listening for the most part, but that didn't mean I would be able to beat him. The difference between us in both skill and experience was too wide to even think about.

"You ready?"

"...Yeah. I think so."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I was knocked onto the ground as he kicked my legs out from underneath me.

"You don't look ready to me. Didn't you see that coming?"

I glared up at him from where I was lying the ground, but it didn't faze him at all, and I saw what I could have sworn was a smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

"You didn't say go," I said between gritted teeth.

"If someone attacks you are they going to explicitly state 'I'm going to attack you now'?"

"...No."

"There you go. This is what the training is about. You have to be prepared for anything."

I know that he was much better than me, but I wasn't about to let him hog _all_ of the glory. I pushed my hands against the ground behind my head; using that and the weight of my body to flip myself back up off the ground, and aimed a punch at his face.

However, he saw it coming and immediately caught my hand in one of his own, twisting my arm behind my back.

"Are you actually trying?"

He held my arm tighter as I tried to struggle out of the grip, pulling me closer to his own body.

"Why would I _actually _try and hurt you?" I said, knowing that my frustration was showing in my voice.

"I'm a thug, remember? What if I was trying to steal your money or something?"

"I don't have any money."

"Hypothetically."

"Then I'd kick the shit out of you."

I heard him laugh close to my ear and felt his breath on my neck. It was making it a lot harder to concentrate, especially considering the fact that I could feel his body pressed against my own. At the moment I was stuck between wanting to be annoyed at him and being unable to.

"And I want you to. If you could kick the shit out of me I'd be very happy that my student had become so skilled."

He chuckled again and I felt a shiver run down my spine, before I decided that this situation was only going to get more awkward, and I had to get out of it, so I pulled back my free arm, bringing my elbow into his stomach.

He didn't seem very hurt by it, but it caught him off guard and he loosened his grip on my wrist enough for me to pull away from him. I decided to take the chance to try and actually do some damage, bringing my leg up towards the side of his body, but once again he didn't even flinch, catching my ankle more tightly than he had been holding my wrist.

But I wasn't going to let him get away with it, and I decided to try and use what he taught me, dropping my hands back onto the ground and again using my body weight to flip myself over, forcing him to let go. It wasn't exactly a back-flip, but it had at least put some distance between us, and judging by the look on his face he seemed impressed.

It didn't last long as I aimed another kick at him, this time connecting with one of his knees. I was ready to be pleased with myself for knocking him over when he grabbed my ankle and pulled me down onto the ground with him, pinning my arms in a split second so I couldn't get back up.

"Very good," he chuckled, nodding, "You nearly had me there."

He wasn't out of breath at all.

"But right now I'd be taking your wallet," he added as I stared up at him.

I was in the middle of trying to ignore the fact that he still had me pinned to the floor.

"I...I don't have a wallet."

He paused for a few seconds, watching me, before I felt his grip on my wrists loosen and he got up, laughing and holding out his hand, which I took. He pulled me up off the floor with no effort whatsoever, before heading back over to get his things from the ground.

"That was really good. I know you probably don't think so, but I'm serious. Considering how long you've been training compared to how long _I _have, you should be proud of yourself. I am."

I spent a lot of the walk home thinking about those words, and he spent a lot of the walk home talking about how much I was improving. Apparently, if he had been an actual thug, I would have easily beaten him. I'm not so sure.

As we reached the front door of Vashyron's house he stopped me with a hand on my chest, and once again I was forced to look him in the eyes, feeling my chest tighten as I did.

"You know, I've been thinking, and...maybe it's time you started coming with me on jobs."

I stared at him blankly, a mixture of excitement and nerves quickly building in the pit of my stomach.

"...A...are you serious?"

"I am. You're getting really good. Besides, I could use a partner," he smiled, ruffling my hair gently, before unlocking the door and going inside.

After a few minutes of standing there frozen in place, I followed him in, finding him hanging his jacket in the wardrobe.

"B...but...are you sure? I mean...I want to. I really want to...but...it's your job. I can't just...tag along. What if I mess something up?"

He came over and shut the front door behind me, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Zephyr, you won't mess anything up. We'll start with something easy. I promise. But the other day didn't you tell me that you would like to have a job like mine? Well, now you can, because I'm hiring you."

My jaw practically dropped to the floor, and I stared at him as he disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two glass bottles of Cola, pushing one of them into my hands.

"...You're _hiring_ me?"

"Yeah. You come with me and help out on the jobs and I'll give you a cut of the profits. Sound fair?"

He took a sip from the bottle, leaning against the wall next to me.

"Yeah...I mean...of course. I...can't believe this is happening. Are you sure you want me to work with you?"

"I'm sure. Relax."

I couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of my lips as I stared at the bottle between my hands.

"Thank you."

He patted me on the shoulder gently, before making his way across the room and flopping down onto the couch, switching on the television. After taking a swig from my own bottle of Cola and removing my jacket, I decided that for once I would join him.

I kept my eyes on the TV screen the whole time, but saw out of the corner of my eye that he smiled at me.

"Welcome to Team Vashyron."


	11. Chapter 11

Vashyron stayed true to his word, and took me on a job the very next day. As we made our way there he explained what we were going to be doing. Apparently, a group of lower level thugs who were holed up in an abandoned warehouse on level seven had been causing trouble to a small, neighbouring town. They were going to send in a hunter from Crank Town, which was close, but apparently he backed out when he heard about the fact that they were all armed, and they were holding a young girl hostage. That's when Vashyron was contacted instead, and that's why we were standing out in the cold waiting for Core Lift two to come back up for a good ten minutes.

The lift attendant was, at the time, watching us both a little suspiciously as if he didn't trust us. I'm not really surprised, considering the fact that we were both carrying guns, but surely hunters were now a regular occurrence, what with all of the thugs and monsters popping up everywhere. Not to mention the fact that the lower levels of Basel were home to a number of caves and old abandoned buildings that probably contained an array of treasures. From what I heard, hunters were always looking to make some quick, easy money.

That was no different for Vashyron. After all, this was his job. It was what payed for our house, our clothes, our food and everything else on top. But I knew other hunters. Vashyron wasn't like them. It was clear that he loved every second of his job, and he wasn't just in it for the money. He wanted to help people. I knew that because of the number of meaningless jobs he had taken. He could have been making a lot more, but whenever a child needed bringing home from wandering the not-too-safe back streets of Basel, or someone had lost something precious to them and couldn't go and retrieve it themselves, Vashyron was there to do it. I had seen him choose those kinds of jobs over more well-payed ones more than once. Other hunters would laugh at it and think him a coward, but in my eyes he was nothing short of a hero.

_If in a few years time I'm even half the man that he is, then maybe, just maybe, I can forgive myself for what I've done. _

When the lift finally arrived and the attendant stepped aside for us to enter, my hands were already numb from the cold. It was always like that on the lower levels. It was almost like the light from Chandelier kept us warm, and the levels below were left in the dark and the cold. If anything, Basel was a physical representation of the distance between rich and poor. The wealthier you were, the closer you got to living in Chandelier. Anything below level four was basically a dumping ground for the unwanted; those the Cardinals didn't want to think about; those they didn't want the rest of society to see. I know because I was there.

_I used to be one of them._

"Are you okay there, sport?" Vashyron asked as the lift doors closed, blocking my view of the disapproving attendant who was still looking down his nose at us.

I leaned back against the railing in the middle of the lift where Vashyron was standing, rubbing my hands together in an attempt to conserve some heat and briefly glancing in his direction.

"Uh, yeah...I'm just a little cold."

It wasn't helping that the railing I was now holding onto felt like it was actually _made_ of ice, and only one of my hands was being protected by a relatively thin, fingerless glove. I would have worn two, but using a gun while wearing gloves isn't recommended, so I settled for keeping one of my hands warm instead. If anything it looked like a slightly edgy fashion statement, and I kind of liked that. I like the idea that your clothing can be a reflection of your personality, but at the orphanage such things were often frowned upon. I remember being scolded regularly for 'forgetting'to wear a cross around my neck.

_I've never believed in God._

"You'll be okay soon. Once you're moving around you won't even notice it."

I nodded in reply, removing my hands from the metal bar and cupping them together in front of my face, breathing into them. A small, white cloud rose from my lips and into the air, disappearing in a couple of seconds. It didn't do very much at all to warm my skin.

"I didn't think it was gonna be this cold." I said to Vashyron when I noticed him watching me in slight amusement. To tell the truth I was beginning to think this job was a bad idea. We hadn't even reached the warehouse yet and I was already unprepared. I knew it was going to be difficult to concentrate in this cold.

"Maybe we should've bought you a warmer coat."

I saw him eyeing my clothing with what looked like concern. I was wearing a jacket, but it wasn't exactly suited to this kind of weather, and I probably should have been wearing a scarf or something at least. But I wasn't.

He seemed to think about it for a while, before he reached over. I was sure he was going to ruffle my hair like usual and say something like 'be a man', but instead he pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head.

"At least keep your ears warm," he chuckled, zipping his own jacket up a little higher as I moved some of my hair out of my eyes. I was suddenly beginning to feel very jealous that he was wearing leather and I wasn't.

He patted me gently on the back as the lift doors slid open, and I followed him out to find that on this level, it was snowing. The snow wasn't very heavy, and the flakes were quite small, but it still prompted me to tuck my hands under my arms to keep them warm. I knew I had to be careful; if my fingers got too cold it would be difficult to use my gun, and that could be dangerous.

The attendant on this level was wearing the same uniform as the others higher up; only he was well prepared for this weather, and had a thick, woollen scarf around his neck and covering the lower half of his face. His hands were tucked into his pockets. Luckily, there was a small box off to one side of the lift doors, big enough for a person to fit inside, containing a chair and a desk with a radio and various other devices which I'm assuming were some sort of lift controls. The chair was covered with a fleece blanket, draped over the back messily as if he had recently discarded it in preparation for us arriving in the lift.

"May I see your pass?" He asked in monotone as we approached. Either he was incredibly bored of his job, or he didn't like the look of us. I'm voting for the latter.

Vashyron dug into one of his jean pockets and produced a small, white, plastic card. It was a special pass, or so I was told by Vashyron himself, that allowed him free access to any of the lifts at any time. Apparently each hunter was equipped with one as their job required a lot of travelling between levels. Vashyron told me that even when the lifts were closed to regular citizens this pass would allow him through. In a way, hunters were the closest thing Basel had to secret agents. There were the guards up in Chandelier, sure, but they were more suited to, well, _guard_ duty. The hunters, especially the more experienced ones like Vashyron, were there to deal with the stuff nobody else wanted to.

The attendant glanced over the card as Vashyron held it up, before nodding his head a little.

"Go on."

He watched us with quiet suspicion as Vashyron returned the pass to his pocket and we continued on, before I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow as he returned to his little booth and his fleece blanket. I couldn't help feeling somewhat jealous.

As we made our way through the snow past Le Chit-Chat Noir, Vashyron produced a small slip of paper from what looked like a hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. I couldn't see what was written on the paper from where I was, but it seemed to be some sort of address.

"It's near Crank Town. You've probably never even heard of it, and it doesn't have a name, but there are a few families living there and one of them had their youngest daughter taken. They're the ones who contacted me. She's being held hostage in a warehouse nearby. Apparently the thugs want a ransom for her safe return."

There was some venom in his voice as he said those last words, and for the first time since we met I could tell that he was genuinely angry.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, wondering why I hadn't thought about this before. It didn't even occur to me that I didn't know what we would be doing when we got there. I guess I was just too excited about finally getting to see what it was like to be a hunter.

"I go in and try to talk them into releasing the girl. You wait outside. If they don't buy it, I'll give you a signal and that's when you come in. They'll realize that I have back-up and maybe it'll make them change their minds. If they still won't give her up, that's when we use force."

"So...we attack them?"

"No. _I _attack them and distract them from you. Your job is to get the girl to safety."

"Right. Got it."

"But if you need to fight then just remember what I've taught you so far. You'll be fine."

He placed his hand on my shoulder briefly, smiling.

"I trust you. In fact, I don't think I'd be able to do this without you. It's like we were meant to be a team."

"...Vashyron?"

"Yeah?"

"...Do you believe in fate?"

He removed his hand, watching me questioningly. It took him a while to answer, and a few times I'm sure he was about to speak, but then hesitated.

"Fate? Not really. Why?"

"No reason."

As we passed Crank Town the snow began to fall more heavily, but Vashyron continued to reassure me that we were close to the warehouse, and once or twice he even suggested that we stop and take a break, but I refused. I wanted this job to go smoothly. I wanted to prove that I could be useful to him, and he wouldn't regret allowing me to work with him. If we had to stop because of the fact that I wasn't wearing a coat, I would feel like I was just getting in the way.

He seemed to be becoming more and more persistent, however, and it got to a point where he stopped and turned me around.

"I really think we should pass through town. It'll be warmer in there. C'mon. I'll buy you a coat, or we can at least stop and get something hot to drink. I know you really wanna do this job, but if you get hypothermia then it will kinda ruin everything."

It seemed like he wasn't giving me a choice, as his hand was still on my arm from when he had pulled me around, and I thought that if I said no he might drag me into the town anyway.

"Vashyron, I'm fine. Can we just keep going? I...I wanna help that little girl. All of the time we're wasting here she's trapped with those people...and her family want her back. I can't imagine how they must feel."

His expression seemed to soften, and he loosened his grip on my sleeve, before letting go.

"Fine. Let's go."

I couldn't quite understand why, but he seemed nervous about something. Then, as we continued on, and the snow let up a little, I realized why.

I hadn't even thought that the route we were taking would lead us close to..._that place_.

But there it was.

Crank Seminary.

It looked exactly as I remembered it, only now it was a mess. Chunks of stone had dropped off the roof, and the statues outside the front doors were falling to pieces. What was once a beautiful building was now a wreck. I couldn't bring myself to look at it for more than a few seconds, though, and even Vashyron seemed to be avoiding it.

But forgetting about this place wasn't going to change anything. You're supposed to face your fears, or they'll torment you forever.

_We grow by overcoming the obstacles God places in our path. _

I stopped, turning to face the looming structure, and I heard Vashyron's footsteps come to a halt nearby.

Seeing this building for the first time after what happened, I had assumed it would be hard, but in a strange way it almost felt like a weight lifted from my shoulders. It was like I was acknowledging what I had done. That it was my fault.

It wasn't just a nightmare.

It was real.

The building was clearly abandoned now, and it was completely silent. If anything, in the snow, it looked almost serene. It was like nothing ever happened, and it had just become like this due to years of neglect.

Over time, that's all it would become. Neglect.

People would forget what happened here.

But I will never forget.

_Is that my punishment?_

My gaze was broken away from the derelict seminary as I felt an arm around my shoulders, and Vashyron was suddenly standing close beside me.

"Come on. Let's go."

We reached the warehouse in about fifteen minutes. The snow had died down to a few small flakes, but it was still freezing, and my jacket was already damp. The warehouse itself was large and ugly, like a lot of the structures on the lower levels, and looked like it hadn't been used in years. As we approached I saw Vashyron remove his gun from its holster, before he motioned for me to wait outside, disappearing through an empty doorway.

As soon as he was inside I stationed myself just next to the door, keeping my non-gloved hand over the pistol grip on my gun just in case I was called in. He had told me that he was going to give me a signal, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for. Peeking around the door slowly and trying to keep out of sight, I saw Vashyron standing in front of a group of armed men wearing hoods and masks. There were five of them. It looked like they were just talking, but I could see that all of the men had their hands close to their weapons. This wasn't going to be easy.

It seemed as if none of them had noticed me, however, so I decided to quickly scan the room for signs of the young girl. I couldn't see her, so I deducted they were probably hiding her somewhere. That's when I noticed a small door at the back of the warehouse, probably leading to the break rooms where the staff would have been when this was a working factory building. If they were keeping her hidden somewhere, it was in there.

I quickly ducked behind the wall as one of them glanced in my direction, but there was no commotion from inside. They hadn't seen me. This time I decided to be more careful, and instead of leaning around the door frame I found a small crack in the wall. The stone was relatively loose, and it crumbled away easily when I dug at it with a piece of corrugated iron I discovered lying nearby, leaving me with a hole just large enough to look through.

However, this small victory was short lived; my heart literally froze in my chest as I felt a gloved hand suddenly clamped over my mouth tightly, and I was dragged away from the wall by someone clearly much larger than me.

All I could do was watch as the front of the building slowly got further away and I was pulled around the side. I would have fought back, were it not for the knife that was now pressed against my throat close enough for me to feel how cold the metal was, and I could do nothing, even as I heard gunshots from inside the warehouse.

I was thrown roughly through a dark doorway, and barely had time to put my hands out and stop myself from hitting the concrete face first, before there was a loud clang behind me, and what little light there was disappeared.


	12. Chapter 12

My initial reaction was panic. Not for myself, despite the fact that I was now who knows where and couldn't see even an inch in front of myself, but for Vashyron. I had heard gunshots from inside the building. All I could do was hope that the bullets weren't aimed at him.

Feeling around on the ground in front of myself, I found my gun, which had fallen out of the holster when I fell. It was only a small relief, as I still couldn't see a thing, but at least I could try and protect myself if whoever it was came back.

I knew that I had to stay calm. There were three lives at stake here, including my own, and although Vashyron was unbelievably skilled with a gun, with me gone, there was a chance he might focus on that instead of protecting himself.

However, my mind was drawn away from that as I heard a quiet shuffling sound coming from somewhere else in the room. I froze in my tracks. My eyes were slowly getting used to the dark, but it was still near impossible to see where I was. I could just about make out what looked like a shelving unit on my left, and to my right, a small desk, but everything ahead of me was just darkness.

I decided to move slowly towards the desk, staying on the ground and trying to make as little noise as possible. If anything, I could use it as protection against gunfire. All of the men I had seen were armed, after all, and if something happened to Vashyron, they would come after me next.

At my movement, whoever or _whatever_ was in the room with me made another noise. With my luck it would be some type of gremlin, and most breeds can see well in the dark. I hid myself behind the desk, keeping my gun close to my body and resting my finger over the trigger. If it was a gremlin, then it was as good as dead, night vision or not. I didn't plan on being killed by something as stupid as that.

But my finger moved quickly away from the trigger when I heard someone crying. It sounded like a young girl.

_That must be her._

She was somewhere in this room with me; quite close, in fact. This was my chance to get her to safety. Vashyron could look after himself. Saying that, I still couldn't shake the bad feeling in the back of my mind; but this girl was unarmed and unable to protect herself. If she couldn't, then I would.

"Hello?"

At the sound of my voice the crying stopped, but she made no reply, and there was nothing but silence.

_That's right. She's scared. Of course she won't trust me right away._

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm here to rescue you."

There was another brief silence, before I heard shuffling again, and I saw a small, brown-haired girl peek out from behind a large crate. She didn't look any older than eight or nine.

In an attempt to reassure her, I tucked my gun carefully back into the holster, crawling out from my own hiding place and holding up my hands to show that I wasn't holding a weapon.

"See? I won't hurt you. I promise. You can come out."

Maybe it was because of the gesture, or maybe it was due to the fact that she saw what I looked like and decided I wasn't a threat, but she came out from behind the crate, and before I knew it she was clinging onto me.

"...C...can I...go home now?"

Her voice was quiet and weak, as if she had been crying a lot, and the desperation behind it was quite heartbreaking.

I hesitated to actually touch her; in this state I didn't want to accidentally do anything that she might see as a threat, but she was holding onto me so tightly, her small, delicate hands bunched up in the back of my jacket, that I didn't know what else to do, so I wrapped my arms around her gently.

"Yeah. It's okay. I'm gonna take you back to your family."

At this she moved away to look me in the eye, and I saw pure joy on her face. She was a genuinely pretty girl, but her skin and hair were caked with dirt, her clothes not much better. The sad thing was that she probably looked like this before she was kidnapped.

"You really mean it?"

I nodded, trying my best to smile, and she clung to me again briefly, catching me off guard and nearly knocking me over, before she moved away, looking at the gun on my hip.

"Are you a hunter?"

"Yeah...I am."

I stopped her as she was about to speak again, realizing that we were just wasting time here, and us sitting here talking wasn't going to get her to safety, or help Vashyron, wherever he was.

"Do you know how to get out of here?" I asked, hoping that maybe she had seen something during the time she was here.

She thought about it for a while, before nodding, pointing somewhere into the darkness.

"There's a door over there that leads into the warehouse, but there's a man with a gun behind it. I saw him when they brought me in here."

"Right. Maybe we can get out that way."

She was nodding along and watching me intently. It wasn't exactly strange. I was probably the first friendly person she had seen in a few days. It was just unusual having someone depend on me. After all, her life was in my hands.

After checking the door I had been thrown through, it was clear that it wasn't an option. It was locked from the outside, and way too heavy to break down. That meant that our only choice was to go through the guarded door at the other side. It was going to be tough, and if I did something wrong then there was a chance they would kill us both, but time was ticking by, and I needed to get this girl out of here.

"What's your name?" I asked her as I came back to where she was sitting and helped her up from the floor.

"Alyssa."

"That's a pretty name," I smiled, "I'm Zephyr. Now, Alyssa, I want you to hide as well as you can, okay? I'm going to open the door, and I don't want you to get hurt, so you have to make sure nobody can see you."

She nodded quickly.

"Nobody will find me," she whispered, "I promise."

"I'll come back for you when it's safe, okay?"

"Okay. Be careful, Zephyr. Those men are bad people."

She went and hid herself inside a crate near the back wall, which was empty, and I pushed the shelving unit in front of it for extra protection, before heading over to the door, taking my gun back out of the holster. It was becoming much easier for me to see in the dark now my eyes were used to it, which meant that whoever was behind the door would have a disadvantage. If I was lucky, they wouldn't see me until it was too late.

Leaning back against the wall, I ran my free hand across the door, feeling for the handle and wrapping my fingers around it loosely. If what Alyssa had said was correct, and there was a man behind this door, then hopefully he was the only one.

I took a deep breath, glancing over to where Alyssa was hidden briefly, before turning the handle and spinning to kick the door open. There was a man standing behind it, and my sudden outburst shocked him into a brief state of confusion, giving me time to pull him into the room; into the darkness.

I saw him reach for his own weapon, but he clearly couldn't see very well in the dark and he was clumsy, giving me time to raise the butt of my gun and bring it down hard onto his head, knocking him out cold. If I could avoid killing anyone, then that's what I was going to do. I had caused enough bloodshed already.

After checking outside the door for anyone else and then dragging the unconscious man behind a stack of shelves to hide him, I decided it was safe for Alyssa to come out, and went to get her. The first words to come out of her mouth when she climbed out of the crate were 'did you kill him?', but I assured her that I hadn't. I couldn't help but notice that she looked slightly disappointed at this.

_Maybe she wanted me to kill him._

I felt quite saddened by the fact that this innocent little girl would want something so horrible, even after what they had done to her.

After checking outside the door again, I led her out of the room, and she shielded her eyes from the sudden bright light.

How long had she been in there?

_In the dark._

I kept her behind me as we crossed a number of small rooms, each nothing but recreational areas for the people who used to work here, but we didn't see anyone else. There was no longer the sound of gunfire, either, which was worrying.

I got her to wait for me as we reached the door to the main warehouse, pressing my ear against it briefly. There was no sound. No voices. Nothing. Either Vashyron had taken care of them or...

"Are you okay, Zephyr?"

I turned to see Alyssa watching me with concern from where she was crouching behind a chair, her large, brown eyes following my every movement. I didn't really know what she meant, but I nodded, placing my finger against my lips.

"You look worried," she continued, now whispering, "We are going to be okay, aren't we?"

"Yeah," I whispered back, "We are."

I motioned for her to get back behind the chair, before opening the door slowly, keeping my back against it and my gun raised, finger hovering over the trigger. There was still no sound, which led me to believe that the thugs were no longer there, and I felt my heart lurch painfully in my chest, swallowing heavily to try and push the horrible feeling back.

Opening the door fully, I stepped out from behind it, pointing my gun into the warehouse, and finding Vashyron pointing a gun back at me, before he quickly lowered it.

"Zephyr?"

I lowered my own gun and holstered it, glancing around the room, which was littered with the bodies of the thugs I had seen earlier, each with scarily accurate bullet wounds their chests and heads. Vashyron himself didn't seem very badly injured, but there was a noticeable blood stain on his jacket over the left side of his abdomen.

Before I could ask about it he came over, holstering his own gun on the way, and I saw him glancing across my body.

"Are you hurt? What happened? You suddenly disappeared."

"One of them found me, but I managed to escape, and I found the girl. She's okay."

"You found her? Nice job. Let's get her back to her parents before any more of these guys show up."

He seemed to be avoiding letting me ask about his injury, so I decided to leave it until after the mission was over, and we took Alyssa back to the small town where her family lived. Vashyron was right; I had never seen this town before, despite living quite close to it for most of my life. It was right on the edge of Basel, and the only inhabited place anywhere near it was Crank Town.

Alyssa's family lived in a small cottage near the centre, which had only one floor, but seemed quite comfortable. It made me glad to see that she lived in a nice place, at least. After an emotional reunion with her parents, grandparents and older sister, Alyssa insisted on showing me a collection of things her father had brought back for her from his various travels. Apparently he was a hunter too. Most of them were tiny, precious stones brought back from mines, but there were also pieces of intricate looking machinery I'd never seen before, photographs, and even some grubby looking dolls.

"Papa said that this one is special," she said proudly, holding up a small, round, white stone, "It's called a pearl, and you can only find them in the sea, outside Basel."

She began rolling it between her fingers, watching it slightly dreamily, and I couldn't help staring at it myself, transfixed with the way it seemed to shine. It didn't look like any other stone or gem I'd ever seen.

"It's beautiful."

Her eyes lit up, and I felt her watching me, before she held my hand in her own, dropping it into my palm.

"I want you to have it, Zephyr."

She pressed my fingers around it before I could protest, smiling.

"You saved me, and I want to say thank you. Please, keep it. It helps when you feel sad."

"It does?"

"Yeah. Whenever I felt sad, looking at this pearl would make me happy. It makes me think about what's outside Basel. There's a big, exciting world, and one day...we'll be able to go and see it."

Without saying another word, she leaned over and kissed my cheek, before collecting all of the other trinkets back into the small box she kept them in, and leaving.

I spent a long while staring at the pearl after she was gone, and thinking about what it signified.

On the way back home, my chest felt strangely light.

It felt nice.

"So, someone's a hit with the ladies," Vashyron chuckled from beside me as we entered the lift back up to level four, nudging me with his elbow, and I couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Well, who could blame her? You look like a prince out of a fairytale, and you just saved her life."

"A prince?" I scoffed, tucking my hands into my trouser pockets. It wasn't snowing anymore, but it had left a chill in the air.

"A slightly grumpy, teenage prince, but yeah," he nodded, chuckling.

It was then that I noticed a slight strain in his voice, and my eyes were drawn back to the blood on his jacket.

"V...Vashyron are you okay? Did you get shot?!"

He waved off my concern, but looking at him now I could see that his face was ever so slightly pale.

"The bullet barely grazed me."

"Barely grazed you?! You're bleeding!"

"I've had worse."

"You should go to a doctor!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I can take care of this myself. Zephyr, calm down, it's just a scratch, okay?"

I continued to interrogate him after the lift stopped and we began walking back home to Ebel City, but he was having none of it, and he brushed off every one of my concerns.

"At least let me help," I begged as we reached the front door and he unlocked it, going inside ahead of me.

"Fine. But you'll see that it isn't so bad."

When I got inside with him and closed the door, I forced him to remove his jacket, only to find even more blood on his shirt.

"Sit down." I ordered, pointing to the couch, and he reluctantly did as he was told, sighing audibly.

"Zephyr, I already told you, the bullet just grazed me. It didn't go in."

I decided not to reply, perching myself next to him on the edge of the couch and lifting the side of his shirt where the blood was. It wasn't as bad as it looked from the blood, but there was a perfectly straight, red line across his waist where the skin had been grazed by a bullet. The wound was open, and was still bleeding a little.

"See? It's not that bad."

"Alright, I'll admit that it isn't as bad as I thought, but it still looks painful."

"Well, yeah, it is, but I know how to deal with stuff like this. I used to be in the army."

"Let me help."

"Okay."

With Vashyron's instruction, I managed to stop the bleeding and clean the wound, before bandaging it up neatly. The whole time I was trying to pay attention to the fact that he was injured, and not that I was touching his bare torso.

"Well...your jacket and shirt are ruined." I said once I was finished, looking at the pile of bloody clothes next to me on the couch, and he sighed, nodding.

"Whatever. At least I have more."

Later on, Vashyron went to take a shower and I went back up to my old room. We decided to switch back, considering the fact that he was now injured and I was fine.

I opened the door to find my room much tidier than it had first been. There were no longer any boxes cluttering it up, and the furniture had been moved around so there was more space. It looked a lot more like a bedroom now, rather than a storage space. I couldn't help but feel happy about it, considering the fact that this place was so strange to me at first. Now, it felt like my home, and this felt like _my_ room.

After changing into some warmer, drier clothes, I flopped down onto the bed; holding up the pearl Alyssa had given me between my fingers and rolling it around to make it catch the light, just like she had done.

I thought about what she said, about the world outside Basel, about the sea, about the fact that one day we would be able to go out there and see it for ourselves.

And I smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning I was awoken rather abruptly by a banging on my bedroom door, followed by Vashyron's voice.

"Zephyr! Are you actually gonna get up today?! It's past noon!"

I reluctantly pushed myself out of the tangle of sheets to find that my muscles were aching and I felt rather light-headed. I didn't think anything of it, and simply put it down to sleeping in a weird position, getting up and making my way over to the bedroom door. It was considerably more difficult than usual, and I had to hold onto the wall briefly to steady myself as a brief wave of dizziness came over me.

There was another loud knock on the door beside my head, and the sound rang in my ears, sending a sharp pain through my head just behind my eyes.

_Another migraine?_

I took another couple of seconds to steady myself, before tidying my hair, which, annoyingly, was sticking to my skin in places, and opening the bedroom door. Vashyron was standing just outside, leaning against the wall, his hand raised as if he had been about to knock again.

"Sorry...I just woke up. I'm gonna...get dressed..." I mumbled, my voice not coming out how I wanted. Instead it sounded weak and croaky, and when I tried clearing my throat it felt dry and slightly swollen.

Vashyron raised an eyebrow at me, before standing up straight. I noticed that he was dressed more smartly than usual.

"Are you okay? You don't look too good."

I nodded, waving away his hand when he tried to place it against my forehead, but he held my wrist out of the way so I couldn't stop him. His hand felt cold against my skin, and for a brief moment it relieved some of the pain in my head. I found myself leaning into the touch a little. He looked a little concerned.

"Zephyr, you're burning up."

"N...no, I'm fine. I...just need to take a shower."

He moved his hand away from my head and let go of my wrist, and I stepped past him out onto the roof, before another dizzy spell overcame me, and my vision wavered. It took me a few seconds to notice that Vashyron's arm was around my waist, holding me up, and my legs didn't seem to be working properly.

"You're clearly not fine. A shower isn't gonna help if you can't even stand up on your own," he said, keeping his arm around my waist and dragging me back into my room, sitting me on the bed and crouching down in front of me, "Do you think you need a doctor?"

I shook my head, finding myself unable to look at him due to the fact that one of his hands was on my thigh. It didn't help that in my current feverish state my skin seemed to be more sensitive, and there was a prickling heat in the area where his palm was, drawing more of my attention to it.

"N...no...I'm fine. I swear."

As if betraying me, my voice came out extra weak just at that point, and I'm surprised he could even hear what I said.

"Zephyr, look at me."

I reluctantly shifted my gaze down to meet his, finding him watching me slightly sternly, but something about the look in his steely, grey-blue eyes was reassuring.

"You're not fine. You have a fever. Now, we're gonna go downstairs, you're gonna set up camp on the couch, I'm gonna get you some medicine, and you're gonna rest."

I nodded, unable to move my eyes away from his as he continued to watch me, before he chuckled, patting my leg and standing up.

"C'mon."

After practically carrying me downstairs, he forced me onto the couch, before packing various cushions and blankets around me so I could barely move.

"...Vashyron."

"What?"

"...I need to use the bathroom."

He laughed, moving some of the blankets so I could get up.

"Okay. Go. I'm gonna get you something to take down the fever."

He disappeared into the kitchen as I made my way to the bathroom to do my business, before taking a quick look in the mirror. It was quite clear that I was not okay. My hair was damp at the ends and sticking to my cheeks, which had more colour than usual. Aside from that the rest of my face was rather pale.

_Great._

I splashed my face with cold water from the sink briefly, brushing my teeth and then trying my best to tidy my hair with my fingers, before returning to the living room where Vashyron was waiting with an array of medicines.

I perched myself on the edge of the couch again, watching quietly as he pushed a small number of different pills into my palm, handing me a glass of water.

"Take these, and drink all of that water. You need to stay hydrated."

I took the pills without question, drinking all of the water, before looking at him, holding out the empty glass.

"...Happy now?"

"Relatively," he chuckled, moving to sit next to me on the couch, "But I wanna check your temperature. If it's really high then we might have to think about calling the doctor."

He held out a small, glass thermometer.

"Open your mouth."

I did as I was told, and he placed the end of it underneath my tongue.

"Okay, leave it there," he ordered, before getting up and going back to the kitchen. When he returned he was holding another glass of water and a small plate of toast. He placed them both on the table in front of me, before pulling the thermometer out of my mouth and looking at it.

"It's a little high, but I don't think we need a doctor."

He handed me the glass of water, waiting for me to drink all of that, too, before motioning to the plate of toast.

"If you're not hungry, then I understand, but you should try and eat something if you can."

"I'll eat it later," I croaked, sitting back against the couch, "I'm not hungry right now."

Nodding, he took the pills and thermometer back into the kitchen, just as there was a knock at the door. As Vashyron was clearly busy with something, I decided to answer it myself, pushing myself away from the nest on the couch and going over, tidying my t-shirt and sweatpants on the way.

I opened the door to find a very attractive young woman with jet black hair which was tied into a loose ponytail over one shoulder. Her eyes were dark green, and she was wearing red lipstick, which I couldn't help thinking was a little bold for this time of the day. She looked shocked when she saw me, and I noticed that she briefly glanced at the outside of the house.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I think I might have the wrong house. Do you know where Vashyron lives?"

I felt my chest tighten uncomfortably, and I must have been staring at her blankly for a long time, because she looked slightly concerned.

"...Are you okay?"

I nodded, finding that my throat was now even drier than before, and it took a lot of effort to form the words 'he lives here'.

"Oh," she chuckled, "I didn't realize that he had..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Vashyron appeared behind me, and I was pushed aside as they started talking, returning to the couch. I sat there in silence as they talked for a good ten minutes or so. I couldn't hear what they were saying aside from the odd few words, but the woman seemed to be laughing a lot.

Every time she did, I felt a strange pain inside my chest.

But it hurt even more when I heard him laughing, too.

When they finally stopped talking, Vashyron came over and sat on the edge of the sofa next to me, but I suddenly couldn't look at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"...I'm...okay..."

"I...forgot that I had a date today," he chuckled, "If you don't want me to go, then I'll stay here with you. Are you well enough to stay on your own for a few hours?"

I nodded, knowing that I didn't really have a reason to make him stay here. After all, I would just be resting even if he was here with me, so he might as well go out. I could take care of myself. I'd been doing it for long enough already.

"Are you sure?" I felt his eyes on me, but still couldn't bring myself to look back at him.

I nodded again, pulling one of the blankets around myself, forcing a smile. It was directed at the coffee table, but he took it anyway, ruffling my hair gently. It must have been because I was ill and he wanted to be extra nice, because I felt his hand linger for a while with his fingers in my hair, and it was much more gentle than usual.

"I'll be back soon, okay? Just try and get some sleep, and eat something."

He pointed at the toast on the table, before getting up and going back over to the door, where I'm assuming the woman was still waiting. I heard them talking for a while; she laughed again and my chest ached, before the voices became quieter and further away and there was a sharp, solid click as the front door closed.

After that I sat in silence for what felt like hours, staring at the blank TV screen, but not having the energy to get up and turn it on. My head was still throbbing. It was nothing like the migraines I usually experienced, but teamed with the uncomfortable heat under my skin and the fact that my whole body was aching; top it off with the fact that my throat was swollen, and to say the least, I felt like crap.

But that wasn't the reason why I felt like this. A fever I could get over; I was even starting to feel a little bit better thanks to the pills, but the horrible, empty feeling in my chest didn't seem like it would ever go.

I knew that I was being selfish, and that the woman seemed perfectly nice, but I couldn't help but start harbouring a strange hatred for her. I'll admit it; I was jealous, and I wanted Vashyron all to myself. That was it.

But before this I hadn't let it bother me. A woman had never come over before; at least, not since I had been here. I knew it was a possibility, and I had been mentally preparing myself for it to happen at some point, but now it had actually happened, it was like reality had just come and slapped me in the face.

Vashyron didn't belong to me. I was just living with him because I had nowhere else to go, and despite how much he cared for me and how much fun we had together, it was nothing more than a friendship; if that. He was my guardian. I knew it would never be more than that, but until now it was like I was living in my own little fantasy where it was just us. Now someone had actually come in and pushed their way between us.

Of course, I wanted Vashyron to be happy. I wasn't going to get in the way of whatever this was. I would just have to pretend to like her; for him.

When I eventually pushed myself out of the huddle of blankets and cushions to eat some toast, I found that it was cold and hard, and I could only manage a few bites. But Vashyron had told me that I had to eat something if I wanted to feel better, and who else could I trust if not him?

Sitting up seemed to have brought back my fever, or angered it or something, because I felt my skin burning again and had to push everything away from around myself so it wasn't touching me anymore. Dragging myself off the couch, I stumbled into the bathroom to splash some more cold water onto myself. After that I spent a while leaning against the sink weakly. It was much cooler in the bathroom and it was a relief.

Then, after a while, I retreated back to the living room and flopped down onto the sofa, deciding to stay there. My eyelids felt heavy. I'm not sure when I let my eyes slip closed, but it must have happened at some point as before I knew it I was asleep.

I was awoken a short while later by a noise coming from somewhere in the house, but it was so brief that I thought I must have imagined it. I kept my eyes closed, snuggling myself further into the mess of blankets. Vashyron couldn't be back yet; it was still too early.

It wasn't until I felt a pressure on the sofa beside me and a hand on my shoulder that I realized I was wrong. Maybe I had been asleep for longer than I thought. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes in my feverish state; I knew that it would mean I would have to wake up properly, and I didn't want to.

The fact that Vashyron was home made me feel all the more relaxed.

The hand on my shoulder moved, and I felt his fingers brush some of my hair off my face, before the sofa shifted slightly, and I opened my eyes to find him leaning over me, his palm still resting against my cheek.

There was a long silence as we stared at each other, before he finally spoke, quietly.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"...Uh...I...w...I'm feeling...okay..."

I paused.

"...Aren't you supposed to be with..."

"Denise."

"...Right. Y...you're back...early."

He continued to watch me for a while, before he sat up properly, smiling.

"Well, I thought about it, and I realized that I couldn't leave you here all alone while you were ill, so I came back."

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my own lips.

"...You came back? W...wasn't she mad?"

He shook his head, chuckling and getting up, stretching.

"No. Don't worry about that, okay? Now, I noticed that you didn't eat your toast, which is actually good, because I brought you back some stuff. I would've been back sooner, but the store was full tonight. They're having a sale."

He disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a large shopping back and sitting down next to me, emptying its contents onto the coffee table.

"Okay, I got you some ice cream, to help take down the fever, I got some fruit juice because you always drink cola and I know I'm a hypocrite, but you're gonna end up with diabetes," he chuckled, pointing at the items, before continuing, "I got some fruit, some more bottles of water, some chocolate just because I wanted to and I got us dinner."

He lifted up a paper bag, before opening it and taking out a cheeseburger wrapped in greaseproof paper, handing it to me as I sat upright.

"I know that you probably shouldn't be eating junk food while you're ill, but what the heck?" he chuckled, "I bought a ton of fruit to make up for it. Plus, you should be able to eat your favourite food when you feel like crap. I wanted to cheer you up. Did it work?"

I glanced around at all of the food on the table, before looking back at him, nodding and smiling.

"...I...think it did."

He ruffled my hair, grinning, before taking another burger out of the bag and unwrapping it, taking a bite as he stood up to pull off his jacket.

"Were you resting while I was out?"

I unwrapped the paper from around the burger, the smell suddenly making me realize how hungry I was, and took a bite. It was so much better than the toast.

"...Yeah. I...fell asleep as soon as you left." I lied, pulling my knees up to my chest so he could sit at the other side of the sofa.

"Good. You must've been pretty exhausted. You were flat out when I came home."

"...When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes ago. I didn't wanna wake you up, so I was trying to be quiet," he chuckled, taking another bite out of the burger.

"Oh."

He reached over once he had finished his burger, placing his palm against my forehead gently while I was still eating.

"Do you still feel dizzy?"

I nodded, swallowing my last bite and scrunching up the paper, throwing it onto the table.

"...A little."

He passed me a bottle of water from where all of the stuff from the shopping bag was still on the table, and I drank some of it to keep him happy. I actually felt a lot better. Whether it was from the food or just him being there, I don't know, but the pain in both my head and chest had lessened considerably.

"How about this? You go and take a bath; it'll make you feel better, and I'll clean up in here, then we can watch a movie or something."

"Deal."

After taking a long, hot bath, something I don't normally do, I changed into some clean clothes, drying my hair in front of the mirror. I could hear him moving around in the living room, and just knowing that he was there made me feel better.

At the back of my mind I couldn't help wondering about the woman, who I now knew as Denise, and what had happened. Clearly, Vashyron blew her off to go shopping and then come back here to see me, and part of me really felt good about it, but at the same time I wondered if she was mad or upset. I didn't want to be the cause of something like that, after all.

I tidied my hair with my fingers, before returning to the living room. The bottles of water were still on the table, as well as the fruit, chocolate and ice cream and Vashyron was sitting on the sofa, where the blankets and cushions had been tidied. He was holding the television remote and focusing on the screen, but I'm not sure what he was doing.

As I went to sit beside him he looked away from the TV and smiled at me.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, I do." I smiled back, pulling a blanket around myself and picking up a bowl of ice cream, watching as he seemed to be struggling to make the TV work properly.

"Piece of crap," he muttered to himself, before we both laughed, and he handed the remote to me, "You're a teenager. You should know about technology. Make this work."

"...Just because I'm a teenager doesn't mean I know how to do this."

"Well, I am losing the will to live," he chuckled, crossing his legs up on the sofa and picking up some chocolate, eating it.

I stared at the remote for a while, not really knowing what to do about it myself, before deciding to take a wild guess and press a random button. It seemed to actually work, and the TV screen, which had been nothing but grey fuzz, flicked to the title screen of a movie.

"Genius!" he laughed, clapping and leaning back.

"...Not really..." I chuckled, pointing out the button that said 'VCR'.

"...Why didn't I see that?" he mused, shaking his head, before taking the remote back and placing it on the table.

I wondered if he actually did know how to do it, and had just used it as an excuse to try and make me laugh.

I'm not really sure how the movie ended, or even what it was about. We spent most of the time talking; mainly Vashyron making jokes about the characters or lines, and I fell asleep about half way through.

My head still hurt, and my throat was still sore, and my muscles ached, but I didn't care about any of that anymore.

The ache in my chest was completely gone.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day my fever had completely vanished, like it was never there at all. I awoke in a warm tangle of blankets on the couch, feeling completely calm and relaxed. The house was silent, and, deciding that Vashyron wasn't awake yet, I rolled over onto my stomach, sliding my arms under the small collection of cushions and snuggling into them, letting my eyes slip closed.

I wasn't particularly tired, nor did I have a headache, which was occasionally the case when I awoke, but I couldn't bear to get out of my little cocoon. It was usually quite chilly in this house. Not only that, but I wasn't wearing anything on my feet, and the thought of having to step on cold concrete instead of plush carpet wasn't very welcoming.

The sound of a door opening broke me out of my half-asleep trance, and I silently cursed Vashyron for having his bedroom downstairs. He always woke up early, too. I heard footsteps go by close to the couch as he walked across to the bathroom.

Still too lazy to get up, I waited until he came back out, willing him with all of my being to go back to bed so I too could continue sleeping. Unfortunately, he didn't get the signal, and I pretended to be asleep as I heard him come over to where I was lying. I was expecting him to wake me up, but he didn't, and I could feel him watching me for a couple of minutes, before he went into the kitchen.

I lifted myself off the couch when I heard him come back, and he immediately rested himself on the seat beside me, smiling and placing a mug of coffee he was holding onto the table. His hair was messed up as if he hadn't bothered to tidy it when he woke up, and was barely in a ponytail anymore, the band simply tangled around a few strands by his shoulder.

"...Your hair..." I pointed, trying to be helpful, but he just raised an eyebrow at me questioningly.

"Huh?"

I reached over and pulled the band out of his hair gently with one of my fingers, holding it out to him.

"Here."

He chuckled, taking it and wrapping it around his wrist, before brushing his fingers across his scalp. It didn't really tidy his hair up much, and instead he ended up with some of it hanging over his eyes, but he ignored it, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

"Thanks. How are you feeling this morning?"

"...Really good, actually. It's like I was never even ill."

"Great. I guess you just needed to rest. But you should be more careful next time. Going out into the snow without so much as a pair of gloves is not a good idea."

"...I...don't have anything like that."

"Exactly the reason we're gonna go shopping today," he chuckled into his mug, and a small cloud of steam rose up in front of his face, "You only have, like, two outfits."

I shrugged, trying to show him that it didn't bother me. In all truth, I really hated people buying me things, because it meant that they were spending money on me. It made me feel really uncomfortable to know that someone's hard-earned cash was going towards someone like me.

Vashyron seemed to read my thoughts, and before I could say anything about it he held up his hand.

"I know what you're going to say, and if it really makes you feel better then we can say that this money is the share you earned from our most recent job. In which case, technically, you'll be paying for the stuff yourself."

I spent a while mulling this over in my mind, before nodding a little.

"Okay. As long as we don't buy anything expensive, because I didn't really do much on that job. Most of the reward should go to you."

He rested his forehead against the back of the sofa where his arm was now placed, running his fingers through his hair roughly and letting out a heavy sigh, followed by a slightly tired chuckle.

"Zephyr, I really wish you would stop with this."

"...With what?"

He lifted his head to rest his cheek on his palm, looking me straight in the eye.

"You know what; this thing you have where you put yourself down constantly. Do you really...think that little of yourself?"

_You have no idea._

"Yeah, I do," I said, nodding, making sure to maintain eye contact with him to show that I was serious, "But...if you had done...what I've done...then maybe you would understand."

"You think I don't understand?"

I felt my throat become dry as his gaze was still fixed upon mine.

"I was sent to kill a fifteen year old kid," he paused, taking another sip from his coffee mug, before his eyes left mine, "And that wasn't the first time I've had to do something like that. Do you think I'd still be here if I let myself constantly think about all of the things I've done that I regret?"

He shook his head.

"The past is the past, Zephyr, and we're human; we make bad decisions and do things we shouldn't, but that doesn't mean we're any less deserving of happiness than anyone else. You don't put yourself down about it. You go back out there and do twice as many good things."

I really didn't know what to say in reply, so I just sat there staring at him from my side of the sofa as he drank some more of his coffee. If there was one thing I had learned about Vashyron from living with him for this long, it was that he was so genuine. He had an answer for everything, and nothing was kept a secret. If you were doing something wrong, he would tell you, the same if you were doing something he liked. To sum up, he seemed to always know exactly the right thing to say at the right moment.

"Now go and get dressed," he added suddenly, waving his hand at me from behind his coffee cup, "If you don't I'll keep rambling and I might end up saying stuff like 'you're a beautiful human being' and 'you need to love yourself'."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I pushed myself up out of my little nest and made my way into the bathroom to take a shower. When I returned he wasn't there, so I quickly pulled some clothes out of the small section in the wardrobe that was mine, dressing myself then and there. He came out of his bedroom a few minutes later, wearing his regular jeans and a shirt which he had left open. There were still bandages fastened in place around his stomach.

"Hey, can you take a look at this for me?" he asked, motioning to that area, "I can't really see it properly from this angle."

Thankfully, I knew what he was talking about, which meant that I managed to avoid looking at his chest.

"Uh...s-sure," I mumbled, placing myself on the edge of the sofa beside him awkwardly as he sat down, "...Does it hurt?"

He shook his head, unwinding the bandages and moving them aside to reveal a slightly red, recently formed scar just above his left hip. It still looked quite sore, but considering the fact that he was shot only a few days ago it had healed very quickly.

"How does it look?"

"...It looks fine, actually. But, uh...I think it's gonna leave a mark."

"Well, it'll just be another to add to my collection," he chuckled, fastening his shirt, before his gaze fell upon my own, "But it looks like you're building up a few of your own."

He reached over, brushing some of my hair away from my neck. I knew what he was talking about; I have a thin, dotted line-like scar running down from my ear to about quarter of the way down my neck. It's barely noticeable unless you're looking closely. I've had it for as long as I can remember, but the weird thing is I don't know how I got it. The only thing I know is that I dislike people touching it.

I flinched away from his hand, pushing myself up off the sofa quickly to try and make it look like I was just getting up.

"W...well, aren't we gonna...go shopping?" I stammered, hastily making my way over to the front door to pull on my shoes, and there was a brief silence, before he, too, came over and put on his boots, taking a leather jacket from a hook on the wall and shrugging it onto his shoulders.

"Okay, well if you're that eager you should've just said," he chuckled, taking the house keys out of his pocket and swinging them around on his index finger, pushing me out through the door and locking it behind us.

"I'm not...wearing a jacket." I tried to point out, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, but he simply shrugged, making his way out of the gate and motioning for me to follow him, "That's why we're going shopping!"

Getting through town was definitely not my idea of fun that day. The streets, which were usually rather empty aside from the odd weirdo, were now packed full of people, mainly children. As far as I could see there weren't any sales going on in any of the stores, but I saw quite a few of them holding what looked like gift bags or carrying balloons.

"...What's going on?" I asked Vashyron as we neared the clothes store and a small girl ran past us carrying what looked like a large, stuffed unicorn, "Why are there all of these people?"

"There's a fair today," he chuckled, motioning to a large, brightly coloured poster stuck right in the middle of one of the boutique's glass doors.

"Oh."

Unfortunately, the fact that the town was full of people attracted to the fair meant that the stores were all crammed, and we had to wait in the boutique for a large group of girls who were clearly trying clothes on just for fun.

Vashyron seemed to find it funny, especially considering the fact that the girls kept looking in our direction, and were now obviously trying things on just so they could waltz around the store in front of us, generally wearing things that didn't have enough material to be considered 'clothes'.

The fact that they looked around my age, maybe a little older, made it even worse, and I kept getting weird looks from Vashyron as he tried, repeatedly, to get me to go over and talk to them, and I tried, repeatedly, to act like I was doing something else.

When the girls eventually moved away from the changing rooms, Vashyron forced me into one of them, handing me a large pile of clothes, and I was left to try all of them on. They all seemed to fit right, and they were nice, as clothes go, but I couldn't help looking at the price tag on each item and feeling bad about it.

I couldn't really let him buy any of these things for me, could I?

As I was fastening myself into a pair of white jeans, Vashyron came in behind me without announcing himself, closing the curtain again and sitting down on a small bench

"You know, I think some of those girls out there are interested in you," he chuckled as I frowned at him.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"...But it's a curtain. You can't knock on a curtain."

"You could've knocked on the wall or something. What if I had been undressed?"

There was a short silence as he stared at me in disbelief, before he started to laugh, practically doubled over.

"...What?!"

"I'm serious!"

"...Zephyr, we're both guys, and it's not like you would be naked. And I mean, even if you were, I wouldn't care."

"Well 'I' would!"

He started laughing again, and I took an expensive leather jacket from one of the hangers, throwing it at him, but he took it off his head, standing up and forcing it onto my arms.

"Relax, would ya?"

Ironically, it was very hard to relax when he reached his arms around me, fastening the zip on the jacket as I desperately avoided looking in the mirror. He then straightened the collar, dusting my shoulders in a very cliché way.

"Okay, this looks good, right?"

He then proceeded to mess with my hair before I could answer, and all I could do was stand there like an idiot, watching him in the mirror.

"...You're making me look like a smaller version of you."

He chuckled, patting me on the back.

"Well, trust me, it works. Now go out there and talk to those girls."

He spent a good while trying to force me out of the changing room, and eventually I had to give up and go out, as he collected the various items of clothing behind me, taking them all to the woman at the desk.

"...You're buying 'all' of those?!" I whisper-shouted at him, trying to ignore the fact that the group of girls from earlier were, indeed, still in the store, and were standing by the exit watching me.

"Well, not these ones. These were already yours," he chuckled, holding up the clothes I had taken off, before returning to talking to the store clerk as she folded everything neatly and placed it all into paper bags with the store logo on the front.

I waited for him over by the changing room area, hoping the entire time that one of the girls wouldn't come over and talk to me. Luckily, they didn't, but as we left the store they still followed us with their eyes and giggled. Although, that may have been because Vashyron 'helpfully' pointed out to them as we walked past that I was single.

After being mad at him for a few minutes once we were out of the store, I gave up when I remembered that he had just bought me a lot of new clothes, all more expensive than the average person can afford. That _and _the fact that the leather jacket, jeans and shirt I was wearing were actually very comfortable.

"So, you wanna go to the fair?" he asked as we were heading back home, stopping and pointing at another one of the posters with his thumb.

In reality, I _really _didn't want to go, but he looked kind of excited about it and because of that I couldn't say no, so after briefly returning home to drop off the shopping bags we made our way there.

It was situated just outside of town near Café Chelsey, so it was just a short trip across the bridge, and as we got closer the number of people increased, and the distant sound of various carnival rides could be heard. The entrance was marked with a huge, yellow banner held up by poles decorated like enormous candy canes, and the only thing more obnoxious than the sign itself was the man at the ticket booth, who was dressed...as a clown.

Thankfully, I didn't have to say a word to him, as Vashyron bought the tickets while I just stood there trying not to get in anyone's way. It was difficult with a lot of people pushing into me, and I was beginning to feel really glad that I wasn't claustrophobic.

"See? Isn't this great?" Vashyron announced as we entered, immediately having to move aside as a hotdog stand on wheels was pushed between us.

"...Yeah."

He chuckled, returning to my side and putting his arm around my shoulders.

"Look, I know you don't like people, and you're...easily startled by loud noises..."

He chuckled as I gave him a threatening look.

"...But this will be fun. Trust me. Plus, this is the first time we've actually been out somewhere together."

"...We go out all the time."

"I meant besides the arena. This city is so boring; stuff like this rarely happens, so we should take the opportunity and have some fun."

"...Okay. Then what do we do here anyway?"

"Have you never been to a fair?"

"No. I haven't."

He led me over to a stall where they were selling candyfloss, buying some and handing it to me.

"Okay, well, to start with, you're supposed to eat basically as many sweets as you can, get really high on sugar and then go on all of the rides. You'll regret it later on but right now it'll be really fun," he chuckled, waving briefly to the guy at the stall, before dragging me away.

"O-okay...so...I eat this, and then..."

"Go on some of the rides," he chuckled, pulling some of the candyfloss off and eating it, "See anything you fancy?"

I ate some of the candyfloss myself, watching him for a while, before glancing around. It was hard to see past all of the people, but it mostly just looked like food stalls.

"Uh...not really."

"Alright, well, I'll decide, okay? You are gonna have so much fun you won't believe it."

We spent the next hour or so with Vashyron dragging me around from stall to stall, buying me sweets, drinks and random little trinkets, and making me go on every single ride we saw. He came on them all with me, which made it slightly more fun, and some of the rides were actually pretty exciting, but the fact that there were _so many _people there was really off-putting.

"Okay, so...there's not much left to do..." he said as he took a sip from a bottle of suspicious-looking, fizzy, blue liquid he bought at a large candy stall, "There's a haunted house..."

"No."

"You're right. Those are stupid. It would take more than that to scare us, right?"

He nudged me with his elbow, winking, and I took the bottle out of his hand, screwing the cap back on.

"...I think you've had enough of...whatever this is."

"You're right. It was starting to hurt my tongue."

He looked at me, sticking his tongue out.

"...Your tongue is blue."

We both laughed, and continued to walk back to the exit, before he suddenly stopped me with a hand on my chest.

"...Why didn't I see this before?"

"See what before?"

Before I knew it I was being dragged over to another stall, only this time when I saw it, I nearly ran for the exit.

Behind a group of people I could see a small platform with two chairs places on top of it. There was a very pretty young girl sitting in one of the chairs, and she looked rather nervous. The entire stall was decorated in pink and red, and there was a large, heart-shaped sign sticking out of the ground with the words 'Kissing Booth' written in glitter.

"Oh, look, there's no queue right now," Vashyron chuckled, pushing me forward.

"...What?"

"Go. Look at her, she's pretty. Are you gonna leave her up there all alone?"

"Then why don't you go?"

"Because this is your destiny," he whispered, still pushing me as I struggled against him, "You don't have a girlfriend."

"I don't _want_ one."

"Okay, well, you just have to kiss her. Once. Who's it gonna hurt?"

"It's gonna hurt 'you' if you make me do this."

At our fighting, the girl looked over and gave me a nervous smile. If I didn't know any better I'd say she was trying to get me to go up there because she didn't want to do it, either.

"Woops. See? She looked at you. It's too late, now, you have to do it," Vashyron said, pushing me to the front of the group of people as a line began to form behind us, before stepping aside, leaving me with everyone staring at me, including the girl at the booth.

Deciding that I couldn't run away in front of everyone, or suddenly turn around for fear of hurting the girl's feelings, I took a step up onto the platform, hearing a few whistles and cheers coming from the crowd. I ignored them as best I could; keeping my line of sight on the girl so I didn't have to see how many people were watching us as I took a seat in front of her.

She was undeniably very pretty, with long, auburn hair and deep, brown eyes, which were fixed on me as I sat down. She was wearing a dress in the same colours as the decorations on the stall.

"...One of my friends forced me to do this," she whispered suddenly, and I noticed that her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap in a clear attempt to hide her nerves.

"Oh...m-me too..."

"I'm really glad it was you who came up here," she giggled slightly anxiously, "...I mean...you're..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but I knew what she was hinting at, and I felt my cheeks become quite hot at the thought that a girl might find me attractive.

"...Thanks. Um...s-so are you..." I found myself chuckling, and she laughed, too, before her expression settled and became more serious.

"I...suppose we should...kiss."

I felt my stomach basically do a back flip as she leaned towards me without any further notice and placed her lips against my own. It was surprisingly soft, and not really how I had imagined my first kiss to be, but she smelled quite nice, and there was a lingering, sweet taste on my lips after she moved away.

I didn't realise that I hadn't moved at all until she herself stood up, tidying her dress.

"...Your turn."

"What?" I was broken out of my trance in a moment of panic as I quickly jumped out of my seat, before she gently pushed me back down.

"...Those are the rules. Now we have to swap places and I get to go. Didn't you read the sign?"

She motioned over to the glittering sign I had briefly glanced at earlier, and I noticed that in smaller writing below the words 'Kissing Booth' there was, indeed, a list of rules.

"B...but I don't..."

"Those are the rules," she repeated, chuckling, before she stepped down from the platform, leaving me up there alone.


	15. Chapter 15

I spent a good few minutes sitting there, dumbstruck, as I watched the bright fuchsia of her dress disappear into the steadily growing crowd. Shouting after her would have been pointless; there were a large number of people now gathered around the stall, and with their chattering and the background noise of the various carnival rides there was no way she would hear me. Plus, I didn't know her name, and I'm sure that shouting something like 'girl', or 'hey, you' definitely would have been rude.

I felt my nerves build as more people seemed to gather around the stall. It was placed a little way behind a few of the other attractions, so most people were probably just noticing it on their way out of the fair, like we did. I couldn't even see where Vashyron was standing anymore. Running away seemed like a viable option at this point, but doing it in front of all of those people who were waiting in line may have proved to be even more embarrassing than staying and letting someone else kiss me. So I decided to stay in my seat, hoping that the next person in line would be another shy girl who would give me a quick peck on the lips and be done with it. Whoever she was, she would be a worthy sacrifice, as long as it meant she would take my place and I could leave.

Unfortunately, _that_ plan never came to fruition, as, although the next person in line _was_ another young girl who looked like she had been dragged along to the same fate as I had, she was pulled out of the queue by an older man who I'm assuming was her father. I then watched as he moved her aside to speak to her. Over all of the noises I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I didn't need to.

_I knew._

In a few short seconds the girl's face changed to one of shock. I knew that look. I had seen it before. That was the look people always had after they found out who I really was. It had only happened a few times before, but it was the exact same look.

Not long after that, I heard hushed voices close to the stall, and it seemed to spread, like a ripple, as various faces in the crowd changed to match the girl's. I didn't blame them. I probably would have done the same if it were me.

There was a brief lull as the rides switched passengers and the music from nearby stalls switched from one song to the next, and in those few seconds I heard the words that confirmed my fears.

"_That's the boy who murdered all of those people." _

I didn't see who it came from, and couldn't even tell which direction, but I felt my stomach lurch as the music started back up and the crowd's voices once again became a blur of sounds. It was clear that everyone else had heard it, too, as I could suddenly feel even more pairs of eyes on me. I didn't dare look at them, so I kept my line of sight on the cracked, painted wood of the stage floor, wishing that this could just be over.

_Why couldn't I have died back then?_

As the crowd continued to stare at me in shock, and it was clear nobody was willing to get up onto the platform with the murderer, I decided it would be best if I went home; _anywhere else but here._

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few people step back as I pushed myself out of the seat with shaking hands, and it _hurt._ It always hurt to know that people were afraid of me. That's not what I wanted. That's never what I wanted. I considered saying something; _anything. _Anything that would make them hate me less; that would stop them from fearing me.

But I knew there was nothing that could ever do that.

I turned away to leave the platform, making sure to plan a route to the exit that would keep me as far away from these people as possible. Not for my sake; for theirs. I didn't want any of them to think that I was actually an aggressive person. If they wanted me gone, I would go, and they wouldn't have to deal with me ever again.

Just as I was about to take a step forward, however, I felt a firm hand around my wrist.

_Great._

My first thought was that they had gathered a group of people from the crowd to beat me up and teach me a lesson for what I'd done, but that thought, along with everything else in my head disappeared as I was pulled around to face Vashyron, and he kissed me.

I'm not even sure how the crowd reacted, as everything but the sensation of his lips pressed against my own seemed to have been blocked out. It was definitely different to how the girl had kissed me. His lips weren't as soft, but there was something slightly more forceful about it, something a lot more experienced, something that just felt _right, _and I briefly let my eyelids slip closed in a moment of weakness. I opened my eyes again as he pulled away, and it was over almost as quickly as it had begun. In reality it had been a few seconds. In my head it had felt a lot longer.

I found myself staring at him in disbelief and embarrassment as I slowly became aware once again of the sounds around me, and became much more quickly aware of the crowd of people still watching us. He didn't seem to care at all, and instead of ushering me away from the masses and out of the fair like I hoped he would, he took a seat in one of the chairs.

Unable to react properly with my head in such a state, I decided to quickly exit the fair; all eyes still following me until I was out of sight. Once beyond the entrance I didn't feel much better, so I took the long way home, spending a good twenty minutes or so wandering around the streets. I had hoped the fresh air and welcome silence might clear my head and make sense of everything, but it had no effect.

_Why did he kiss me?_

_Was it because nobody else would?_

_Did he feel sorry for me?_

The possibility that he had done it out of pity made me feel even worse. I was happy that he had kissed me; _more_ than happy, but did he have to do it in front of all those people? Those people who were crowding around to gawk at me like I was some kind of freak show.

It would have been easier, not to mention less embarrassing, if he had just let me leave without doing that.

After encountering a group of thugs and having to hide from them as I wasn't armed, I decided to return home. The door was still locked and Vashyron clearly wasn't back yet, so I let myself in using the spare key he kept hidden in a 'secret' compartment at the back of the mailbox.

The house seemed oddly silent and kind of melancholy without Vashyron's presence in it, but in no way did I want him back here right now. I'm not sure what I was going to say to him next time we were together, but I didn't want to have to think about that yet.

I spent a good while with my back against the front door once it was closed, staring at a road sign on the opposite wall and trying not to think about everything that had just happened. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Everything was just falling into place and starting to make sense, and now it was all complicated again.

Sure, I really wanted Vashyron to kiss me, but not like that; not in front of a group of people like that, not after people had been saying those things about me, and definitely not because he felt sorry for me.

I hated it when people felt sorry for me.

I didn't want to be pitied, I just wanted to be treated like everyone else; to be normal like everyone else, and have a normal life and family and friends; to be a regular teenager.

_What are the chances of that ever happening?_

I took a deep breath to clear my head, shrugging my jacket off my shoulders and hanging it over a hook on the wall, before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. After removing my brand new clothes and feeling guilty again after looking at the expensive names on the tags, I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain around and turning the water up as high as it would go. It stung when it first hit my skin, but soon after came the familiar numb, tingling feeling, and I was able to stand under the spray, vacantly watching clouds of steam rise around me.

I realised I was going to need a plan for when Vashyron got home. I was going to have to prepare myself for the awkward conversation that would probably arise. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be awkward at all. It _was _a kissing booth, after all, so he had a reason to kiss me. It wasn't just on a whim.

_Yeah._

That was clearly all it was. I was worrying for nothing. He would come home and it would be just like it usually was; no different. Therefore, I would have to act like my usual self, too. After all, wasn't I used to hiding what I was thinking? Wasn't I used to hiding how I was feeling? He wouldn't know that the kiss was all I was able to think about, and that before it happened I had _wanted_ him to kiss me.

I quickly washed my hair under the scalding water, scrubbing my body just as hastily, before turning off the shower and stepping out onto the rug. Just as I was reaching for a towel, I heard what sounded like the front door, before Vashyron came into the bathroom without knocking.

_And I was just standing there, completely naked._

I felt my cheeks literally burning, and not just from the insanely hot shower I had just stepped out of, but Vashyron didn't seem to care at all.

"Zephyr, I have to talk to you."

I quickly grabbed the towel I had been reaching for seconds before, tying it around my waist in a knot that was probably never going to come undone.

"Couldn't you have talked to me _later_?!"

"No can do. I wanna talk about what happened, and I know that you probably don't, but...those people are just arrogant. They don't know you, Zephyr, and I really don't want you to think that-"

"_That's _what you came in here to talk about?!"

"...Yeah. What else would it be?"

I felt my face heat up again, and although I wanted to tear him a new one right then and there, I decided it would be best if I went and put on some clothes first, so I snatched my clothes from the floor, pushing past him and retreating angrily to my room on the roof.

Luckily, he seemed to see sense this time, and didn't follow me. So I was left alone for the night to lie on my bed staring at the ceiling, and wishing that I didn't have to go back downstairs the next morning and explain why I was so upset.

But I did.


	16. Chapter 16

It was dark, and it was silent, and the air felt somewhat humid. I could feel something pressed against my chest...or rather my chest was pressed against something; something cold and hard.

_A wall?_

My skin was hot, and whatever I was pressed against felt quite nice in contrast; soothing, almost. I let my cheek rest against the cool surface along with the upper half of my body, somewhat relaxed by the silence and darkness.

_Wait..._

_Where are my clothes?_

As I was about to move away I felt a firm hand against the arch of my back, holding me in place. It wasn't rough, and it wasn't forceful, and somehow I was calmed by the touch. It felt strangely familiar. It didn't feel like they wanted to hurt me, or harm me in any way, and despite the fact that they were holding me against something and preventing me from moving, it was relatively gentle. Usually my first thought would have been to struggle to get away from them, but I didn't want to.

I waited to see what would happen next, and I soon felt their palm running across every inch of my back, sometimes lower, and sometimes higher onto my shoulders, leaving no area of my skin untouched. It felt nice, and I didn't even think about the fact that I didn't know who it was; I didn't think about the fact that someone was touching my naked body; I just wanted it to continue. It was like my skin was itching to be touched by this person even though I couldn't see them and didn't know who they were. I could feel eyes on me the entire time, but it was as if I couldn't turn around to face them; as if something else aside from their hand was holding me there, too.

A short while later the hand was replaced by someone's body, and I felt skin even hotter than my own as they pressed against me, forcing me closer to the cold surface. The body was larger than my own, and their chest was definitely flat, so I quickly deduced that this person was male and probably older than me. A certain name immediately came to mind, but how could that be possible? There was warm breath on my neck, and hair that wasn't my own brushed against my cheek as I now felt a hand on my waist, and then on my stomach, moving lower and lower until it reached the area between my thighs, and I didn't have the strength or the will to stop them as slightly calloused fingers started teasing me.

After that everything was a blur.

All I could do was cling helplessly to the wall as another hand joined the first, and I felt fingertips pressing into the inside of one of my thighs as the heat around me seemed to rise along with the pleasure building in the pit of my stomach like a tight knot of intense heat. But it wasn't just there, it was my whole body. Every single nerve in my body felt as if it was on fire, and it felt good, and I didn't want it to stop.

Before my brain could even register what was happening, I heard my own voice, begging, telling them not to stop; to go faster, and I felt fingers gripping my thigh again, more firmly, as suddenly there was a pressure on my neck; someone's lips, and tongue, and teeth. I tried, weakly, to push them away, to tell them not to touch me there, but my efforts failed, and I felt my eyelids slip closed as their lips latched more firmly onto my neck. My voice escaped again before I could stop it, only this time there were no words, only slightly desperate noises; noises I'd never heard myself make before, and in reaction to these noises the person behind me pressed closer and closer until all I could feel was their body against my own.

The sensation of someone else's skin brushing up against my own was sending goose bumps across every inch of my body, and I felt myself pressing back in return. It was pointless, as there was no way we could possibly have been any closer, but all I knew was that no matter how much of them was touching me, it still didn't feel like enough. I wasn't satisfied with just this.

The heat both around me and inside me was becoming unbearable, and I knew that my body was desperately craving release, but no matter how fast the hand moved, or how firmly they pressed, it was like some unknown force was preventing me from doing so.

However, that thought was pushed well aside as I suddenly felt hips against my own, and a hand pressing down between my shoulder blades, keeping my chest to the wall. I knew what was happening, but I wasn't sure I wanted it. That being said, I still couldn't move, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

"Relax," whispered a voice close to my ear, and in that moment I realised.

_Vashyron._

My eyes snapped open to see my bedroom ceiling, and I quickly scanned the room. Yep, everything was normal; everything was just where it always was; which could mean only one thing. I kicked the bed sheets back hastily as I sat up, glancing down at my body to see the damage. It was just as I had feared.

In fact, it was even worse.

I practically leapt off the bed and across the room to my dresser, pulling on some clean underwear and nearly falling over in the process, before throwing the offending article of clothing far across the room, pacing for a while by the window and wondering what to do about this particular situation.

It's not like I had never had...a...you know...one of _those_ dreams before. I mean, I'm a guy, so this wasn't exactly new territory, but to have one of those dreams about a certain _other _guy who I live with and who is obviously not into guys is the worst thing I could imagine happening.

_It's not like he'll know, right?_

_Unless he does the laundry and sees my underwear and the incriminating evidence...which, he will because he always does the laundry._

_Oh geez._

I now realised that my only option was to offer to do the laundry myself, without acting suspicious, of course, and he would be none the wiser. I felt myself relax again somewhat, and went to sit back down on the bed, where I stayed, awake, until I saw light shining through my bedroom window. I had probably been sitting there for a few hours, but I didn't care. There was no way I was going back to sleep after _that_ dream.

However, it was obviously still early in the morning, and Vashyron probably wouldn't be awake yet, so I decided to take this as my chance. This way, I could do some laundry before he even woke up and he wouldn't be suspicious. So I left my bedroom, grabbing the underwear and some other random articles of clothing along the way, and headed downstairs into the kitchen. I noticed that Vashyron's bedroom door was closed, which meant he was probably still in there sleeping.

After hastily throwing everything I could find into the washing machine, including some random items that belonged to Vashyron, I poured in some detergent and pressed the button that said 'start'.

_That should do it, right?_

In all honesty, I had never used a washing machine in my entire life, and I didn't pay attention when Vashyron was doing it, so this was all new to me.

"You have to actually tell it what you want it to do before you press 'start'." Vashyron said suddenly from the kitchen doorway behind me, and I turned around to see him watching me, looking rather amused.

"...Oh, right."

I briefly glanced over the buttons on the front of the machine, before moving aside as Vashyron came over and pressed some of them, the machine starting to make its usual noises.

"Why are you doing laundry at six in the morning?" he asked, taking a mug out of one of the cupboards and tipping some coffee grains into it, setting the kettle on the hob and switching it on.

"Uh...I...couldn't sleep." I lied, watching as he turned to face me, and trying not to look at his bare chest, or to think about the dream.

_Oh gods, the dream._

He chuckled, turning to the fridge to take out some milk, and I couldn't tell whether he bought it or whether he was just humouring me.

"Well that makes two of us."

"...You couldn't sleep either?"

"Not really," he sighed as he took the kettle from the hob, pouring some into the mug and stirring it lazily with a teaspoon, "I'm a light sleeper, so once I wake up there's no going back."

He finished making his coffee, returning the milk to the fridge and then leaning against the counter, his gaze meeting my own as he took a short sip.

"What about you?"

I felt my heart freeze in my chest for a second as his gaze was fixed upon mine. There was something different about the way he was looking at me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

_Did he know?_

"Zephyr?" he said questioningly after another few seconds, chuckling and waving at me, "Is anyone home?"

_Must just be my imagination._

"Uh...I just...couldn't sleep. Had a bad dream," I mumbled, secretly pleased to have come up with such a good excuse so quickly, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

I motioned out of the kitchen, quickly making my way to the bathroom before he could say anything else to take a very cold, very quick shower.

Considering the way this day had started, I was reluctant to see what the rest of it had to offer me. I still hadn't spoken to Vashyron about the kiss, and as much as I would've liked to ignore it, I knew there was no way I could. If we pretended it didn't happen it was likely that things would become very awkward between us, and I really didn't want that. Vashyron was my best friend; my _only _friend, and if I couldn't talk to him then I couldn't talk to anyone.

After hastily getting re-dressed and towel-drying my hair into its usual mess, I left the safety of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch.

_Here goes nothing._


	17. Chapter 17

Vashyron's eyes turned to meet mine as I slowly made my way across the small area between the bathroom door and the couch, and I saw his lips settle into a soft smile.

"Hey. Feeling any better?"

I perched myself on the edge of the seat beside him, trying to focus on the floor more than anything else.

"W...what?"

"You said that you had a bad dream. Are you okay now?"

I could still feel his gaze focused on the side of my face as I continued to stare nervously at the space just in front of my feet.

"Oh. Yeah...I'm fine."

There was a relatively awkward silence between us for a few seconds, before I felt a pressure beside me as he shifted closer.

"Zephyr, is there something you wanna talk to me about? You seem kinda...more quiet than usual."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling the inside of my mouth become unnaturally dry, before forcing myself to look him in the eye.

"Why did you kiss me?"

For a while, he looked confused, as if for some reason he hadn't expected me to bring it up, and I was suddenly wishing I'd never said anything, but his expression quickly changed to one of slight amusement, and he raised his eyebrows in that annoying way that says 'Now I'm going to imply your question was kind of stupid'.

"We were at a kissing booth. That's kinda what you're supposed to do."

"I know that," I replied quickly, feeling myself for once becoming rather irritated by his laid-back attitude towards everything, "But why then? Why did you do it while all of those people were staring at me? Why didn't you just take me home? You just made everything worse. If you'd just let me go..."

I found myself suddenly getting upset, but I couldn't stop it, and I had to pause to take a breath and calm myself down.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while, calmly, and I felt his hand rest on one of my arms, "I shouldn't have done that. I wasn't thinking about how you felt, I was just...thinking about those people, and how narrow-minded they were being, and how they don't know that you're actually a great person, and I guess I just...wanted to show them that not everyone thinks that stuff about you."

I took a few seconds to think this over. So, in short, he kissed me because he felt sorry for me. It was exactly as I suspected.

"...Right," I managed to mumble, still avoiding looking in his direction and trying to somehow mask my disappointment. Sure, I was angry that he had kissed me in front of all of those people like that, but if, by any small chance, he had kissed me because he liked me as more than a friend, then it might have lessened the blow.

"Can I make it up to you?" he said suddenly, and I felt his fingers squeeze my forearm gently, "We can go out somewhere. I was planning to celebrate anyway."

"...Celebrate what?"

"Today's my birthday," he chuckled, shrugging as if he didn't really care.

I finally decided to look at him.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged again, moving his hand away from my arm to scratch the back of his neck lazily.

"I...didn't think it was that important."

"...But I didn't have a chance to get you anything."

He seemed somewhat taken aback by this, and for a brief moment it seemed like he was going to hug me, but he stood up instead, making his way into the kitchen, where I followed him.

"You don't have to get me anything," he chuckled, but this time there was something slightly more forced about it, "Besides, you don't have any money, Zephyr."

He seemed to be pretending to look in the refrigerator.

_Oh._

_So that's what it was._

"I still have some left from the last job we did, and if it's your birthday then why shouldn't I be allowed to get you a present? You got me something for _my _birthday."

"Zephyr...that's different."

"Why?"

"Because...it just _is. _You don't have to get me anything. Just say 'Happy Birthday' and that's good enough for me. Deal?"

He looked at me expectantly, leaning on the door of the fridge, which was still ajar, but this time I decided to challenge him, looking him directly in the eye.

"No."

He raised his eyebrows at me, closing the fridge door slowly as if for dramatic effect.

"_No?" _

"I'm going out," I said bluntly, making my way out of the room quickly before he could stop me, taking a jacket from a hook by the door and pulling it on, "See you later!"

I have never exited a building so fast in my entire life, and I even made sure I had cleared a few corners once I was outside before I slowed down to a normal walking speed.

It wasn't that I had never said no to anyone before, nor that I found anything wrong with disobeying adults, but it was Vashyron, and ever since we first met there had been no disagreement between us. It was the first time I had ever said 'no' to him, at least.

I knew he wouldn't be angry when I got back, but with things a little awkward between us already I thought it would be best if we spent some time apart. Ever since I moved in we had been together constantly, and as much fun as it was, it was clear that we could both benefit from spending more time alone.

Plus, this gave me a great opportunity to figure out what I was going to do for his birthday. After all, when it was my birthday he made me a special breakfast, bought me a gun and a cake and took me to the arena to do some training.

_What could I possibly do for him?_

I spent a good half hour or so window shopping at various stores, feeling gradually worse and worse about the fact that none of these things seemed to be appropriate presents for someone like him. I knew what kinds of things he liked, more or less, but there were certain rules for this kind of thing. There are obvious choices for family members, couples, best friends, and children and so on, but Vashyron was none of those things to me.

He was my friend, of course, but we weren't related in any way, and considering the age difference between us even the whole 'friend' thing was a little awkward. Then again, I could be the only one who thinks we're friends in the first place.

_What kind of thing should you buy for an older guy who you live with but aren't related to?_

I mulled this over in my mind as I passed store after store, street after street, and eventually realised that I was running out of options. This town wasn't so big, after all, and the store merchandise was rather limited.

I perched myself on a short wall over-looking the bridge, deciding to take this moment to count the change in my pocket. It wasn't very much, considering the prices in this place, and I would be lucky to get a gift out of it anyway.

Sighing, I tucked the slightly crumpled notes back into my jacket, spending a while staring blankly out across the bridge. From where I was sitting, I could just make out the buildings at the other side.

And that's when I had an idea.

_Café Chelsey. _

Instead of buying him something from one of the stores, I could offer to pay for dinner. Café Chelsey wasn't exactly the best restaurant in town, but it wasn't shabby, either. I often heard stories about people seeing the cardinals dining there.

Then again, there's a chance that offering this as a gift might seem really weird. What if it was too much like a date? I'm no expert on dates, but it's possible that taking someone out to dinner at a nice restaurant could be classed as such.

However, as it was _literally_ the only idea I had, I decided to go with it. The only problem was that a meal at that place was rather expensive. Vashyron had only taken me there twice, and I felt guilty about it both times. The small collection of notes and coins I was currently carrying in my pocket would only buy us some drinks there.

So with this in mind I made my way back into town to see what I could do about it. If I could make enough money by tonight, then everything would be fine. If not, then we wouldn't be able to go and I wouldn't have a present to give to him.

I entered quite a few stores before one of them finally offered to give me some work to do, and even then it wasn't much and only got me a small amount of money. So I decided to try my luck at the boutique instead. The woman there was very kind and understanding, despite how timid I was and how long it took me to finally ask if I could do some work for her, and she gave me a job stacking shelves in the back room.

It wasn't very difficult, but there were a lot of boxes and crates, and the room was quite cramped and not very well-ventilated. By the time I had finished my throat was dry and I had acquired quite a few splinters, but she payed me fairly, as promised, and I left the boutique with even more than I had hoped.

Counting the new total, I was quite sure that this would be enough, and decided to make my way home. Quite a few hours had passed since I left, and I was worried that Vashyron might still be a little bit mad at my leaving without telling him where or why I was going, but when I entered the house he still greeted me with the usual 'Hey, sport'.

He was sitting on the couch in front of the television, with his feet up on the table and a drink in his hand, seemingly not bothered by it at all. I took off my jacket and left it by the door, going over and slowly seating myself beside him.

There was a long, awkward silence in the room. Well, awkward for me. Vashyron didn't seem to care at all, and carried on with his television programme and his drink.

"I...I'm sorry about before," I stammered, suddenly becoming nervous when he looked over at me, "I shouldn't have gone out without telling you where I was going...and...I shouldn't have just stormed out like that. I'm sorry."

He started laughing before I had even finished my apology, patting me on the shoulder quite roughly and shaking his head.

"You don't have to look so worried! I'm not angry!"

I sighed heavily in a rather cliché manner, slumping back into the couch.

"I just...really wanted to do something for your birthday, so..."

"So...?"

"So I went out to get you something...but then I couldn't think of what to get you...so...instead of that...I think that we should go out to dinner, and I'll pay for it...this time."

I heard him chuckle, and looked over to see him smiling at me.

"Really? Where?"

"At...Café Chelsey."

"Can you afford that?"

"Uh...yeah. So...do you wanna go? I mean, we don't have to if you don't wanna...it was just an idea..."

He cut me off mid-ramble, putting his drink down next to the television and leaning forward in his seat.

"Are you kidding? Let me get my jacket!" he laughed, and I looked at him questioningly.

"R...right now?"

_Talk about spontaneous._

"Yeah!" he chuckled, pushing himself up off the couch and going to the front door, "That's a great idea! It'll be so nice to not have to pay for dinner for once."

I followed him over to the door when I realised he was serious, pulling my own jacket back on and fastening the zip as he watched me, seeming somewhat excited, before he ushered me outside and locked the door, swinging the keys around his index finger.

It was starting to get dark as we strolled somewhat leisurely across the bridge, and although it was quite cold I felt strangely calm and content. In all honesty I hadn't expected him to accept my offer, but the fact that he seemed so pleased about it was really great. I just wanted to make up for all of the things he had done for me, not just on my birthday, so even if I had to use all of the money I had earned so far, it was worth it.

When we reached the restaurant it was fairly empty, probably because the majority of the seating was outside and it was a little bit cold, but Vashyron didn't seem to care, so I decided not to let it bother me either.

They gave us a nice table, which was outside but underneath a fancy canopy attached to the front of the building. There was a small outdoor heater nearby, which meant we could take off our jackets without freezing to death, and there were candles set at each of the tables. In a way, I felt a little nervous about how romantic it all seemed, and couldn't help noticing couples at other tables, but seeing a few families sitting with children eased my nerves a little.

"So how can you afford this?" Vashyron asked me suddenly, and I was forced to bring my attention back to the real world.

"Uh...I did some jobs around down."

"You did all of that just for me?"

I nodded, biting my lip slightly nervously and desperately hoping that he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

He chuckled, pausing briefly to thank the waiter who had just brought us some drinks, before turning back to me.

"You know, you really didn't have to do that, but thank you," he smiled, "I really appreciate it."

I smiled back sort of awkwardly, shrugging and picking up the glass of cola that had been put next to me, taking a long sip to try and postpone the rest of the conversation.

Luckily, the rest of the meal wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We talked about various things, none of them too serious, and occasionally he asked me a few questions about myself, but I managed to get away with being vague with my answers.

Vashyron ordered a bottle of wine during the main course, insisting that if it was too expensive he would pay for it himself, and forcing me to have a glass with him. I have to admit that I didn't like the taste, and it made me feel kind of light-headed, but he seemed pleased that I was enjoying it, so I continued pretending to, and ended up drinking the whole glass.

After that the evening seemed to pass quite quickly, and before I knew it I was pulling my jacket sleeves back onto my arms, paying the bill and following Vashyron back onto the street. The effects of the wine seemed to be getting to both of us, I more than him, and the conversation on the way home was rather strange. Although, it seemed to be that I was the one doing most of the talking while Vashyron watched me in slight amusement, occasionally making his own input.

"Don't you ever get bored of living here?" I mused as we were walking back across the bridge, fumbling in my jacket pocket with what little change I had left.

"Sure...sometimes," he chuckled, shrugging, "But it's pleasant enough. I mean, the people are nice and it's not too shabby."

"But you could do _so_ much better," I said before I had time to think about what I was doing, "You're so cool and sophisticated and you can do everything."

He laughed, falling into step beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"I think you've had too much to drink. I am _not_ cool and sophisticated."

"_I_ think you are."

There was a brief silence, before he laughed again, shaking his head, and soon I found that I was laughing, too, despite the fact that I should have been kicking myself at that point. He pulled away from me as we reached the house, unlocking the door and going inside.

"Cool and sophisticated," he scoffed, still laughing to himself, and I couldn't help but start laughing again too as I followed him in, closing the door behind me. After a while I started to get a little dizzy, and I mentioned it to him, but he told me that it was just the wine. He seemed quite amused by it, actually.

"Are you _drunk?" _he chuckled, raising his eyebrows at me as he threw his keys aside, "You only had, like, one glass of wine."

I shrugged.

"I...I don't know...maybe. What does being drunk feel like?"

He laughed again, patting me on the back roughly, before grabbing my arm to stop me from falling when I stumbled slightly and tripped on a pair of my own boots that were next to the door.

"Woah."

I pulled myself back up straight using the sleeve of his jacket, chuckling and shaking my head, mumbling something about being clumsy, but he didn't seem to care, and instead of answering he reached past me to fasten the chain on the front door.

As he did this, some of his hair brushed across my cheek, and in my slightly intoxicated state I couldn't help but lean a little closer, my line of sight focused on the small section of his collarbone that was visible above his shirt.

He seemed to notice my sudden silence and moved back to look at me, much closer than he had been before, and I stupidly let my gaze settle on his lips for a few seconds. I don't know if he noticed it or not, but he stayed silent for a good few seconds, his eyes fixed on mine, and I suddenly noticed how quiet it was in the house, with nothing but the soft buzz of the television set.

My heart practically did a back flip in my chest as I saw his eyes lower to my own lips briefly. It was barely noticeable, but at this close proximity I definitely saw it. I wasn't sure what to say or do in this situation. My mind was a complete blur. Of course I wanted nothing more than for him to kiss me, but I knew it was just my imagination running wild. Any second now he would move away and everything would go back to normal.

The silence lasted for what felt like forever, both of us just standing there next to the coat hooks, and the longer he was watching me, the harder it was to look away. My mind still felt somewhat fuzzy from the wine, and all I could focus on was how close he was and how good he smelled. I let my eyes wander back down to his lips for a few seconds, and he seemed to take it as a sign, because before I could react to anything his mouth was on mine.

I felt my back hit the front door a few moments after, and the handle was digging into one of my hips, but I found it so hard to care as the kiss continued and became more forceful, and suddenly one of his hands was in my hair. I'm no expert on kissing, but he definitely seemed to know exactly what he was doing, so I let him continue, torn between being unsure of whether or not I should try and kiss him back and being content with him having complete control over me.

I settled for the latter, relaxing against the door as he leaned over me slightly to deepen the kiss, and letting my eyes slip closed as I felt the tips of his fingers run across my scalp to settle against the back of my neck. I wasn't aware of how long the kiss had lasted until he pulled away and I had to take a deep breath to ease the ache in my chest, but before I could even open my eyes I felt his breath on my lips.

"Open your mouth."

His voice was quiet, and I could tell that he was just as breathless as I was, but it didn't sound forced. If anything it sounded slightly..._desperate._

In any case, there was no chance I was going to say no, and I was completely focused on said task, but once again, before I could do anything, his lips were on mine, slightly wetter than before. This time it was more forceful than before, too, and if being 'weak in the knees' was a real thing, that's exactly how I would have been at that point.

And then his tongue was in my mouth. I'm not even sure when it happened; as I was still focused on the fact that his lips were touching mine and his hand was now gripping the back of my neck. It felt strange at first, even a little unpleasant; someone else's tongue touching mine, the taste of someone else's saliva in my mouth, but as his other hand found its way onto my waist all of my thoughts seemed to stray elsewhere.

_How far was this going to go?_

_Did I really want this?_

However, he seemed to be thinking the same thing, and quite soon after there was a cold space in front of me as he moved away. I did the whole cliché intake of breath after a great kiss that they do in movies, opening my eyes to see him standing further away, looking rather distraught.

"Uh...I...I don't..."

He paced back and forth a few times, before stopping and pointing at me with his hands clasped together.

"Zephyr..."

That was clearly all he could manage to say, before he smiled at me very awkwardly, and then quickly retreated to his bedroom, closing the door.


End file.
